


Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came

by Dawn (sunrize83)



Series: Blood Ties [12]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 04:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 53,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16339424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunrize83/pseuds/Dawn
Summary: Mulder's knowledge of alien abduction just got up close and personal. Can he make the long journey home?





	1. Chapter 1

Give me your hand, my brother, search my face;  
Look in these eyes lest I should think of shame;  
For we have made an end of all things base.  
We are returning by the road we came.

"To My Brother" Seigfried Sassoon (1918)

Holiday Lake State Park  
Outside Lynchburg VA  
2:43 AM

 

"At the risk of sounding pissy, Fox--why are we here?"

Mulder abandoned the leaf he'd been shredding and slowly  
turned to Grey. His face bore the blank, slightly amused  
expression that inevitably signaled a smartass remark.

"Well, that would depend."

"Depend? On what?"

"Whether you're speaking geographically...or cosmically."

A soft snort drew Grey's attention past his brother's  
shoulder just in time to catch the roll of Dana's eyes.  
Propped against a log, her clothing rumpled and a smudge  
of dirt on her cheek, she looked as weary as Grey felt.

"See, darlin', that's why I admire Fox so much. He's never  
one to get bogged down in small details, always looking at  
the big picture." An elbow to the ribs turned his brother's  
smirk to a gasp. "How 'bout you start simple and we'll  
move on to the meaning of life stuff if we have time?"

Fox selected another leaf for torture, eyes abruptly dark and  
humorless. "You know why."

"I knew why we were here at seven. I even knew why at  
ten. But it's going on three in the morning, Fox."

"The timing is right. She's going to be returned tonight.  
You know that; the evidence is too solid to dispute."

Grey heaved a sigh, tugging the baseball cap from his head  
and running his fingers through his hair. "I know the  
pattern, yes--a child disappears without a trace, then returns  
forty-eight hours later."

"To the same location." Mulder gestured at the campfire's  
cold ashes with a jab of his hand. "Paige Thompson was  
abducted from this very spot Friday night. It's been forty-  
eight hours. Hence our presence, here, now." He lifted an  
eyebrow. "Shall we move on to the meaning of life stuff?"

Grey kept his voice even. "It's been more than forty-eight  
hours. Paige disappeared at around five in the evening. In  
every case so far, the kids have been returned within a  
couple hours of the forty-eight hour mark." He shifted,  
wincing. "As my numb ass can attest, we passed that point  
hours ago. Enough is enough."

Mulder tipped his head back and stared up at the stars, jaw  
clenched. "It's never enough, Grey. Not when you're the  
one left behind."

Bereft of a reply, Grey watched Scully run her hand down  
his brother's arm and tangle their fingers together. "Mulder,  
you know Grey wants this to work as much as we do. But  
he's right; something should have happened by now. We've  
been here nearly twelve hours. Just how long do you intend  
to wait?"

Eyes locked, a silent conversation passed between them.  
Grey turned away, almost, but not quite used to the feeling  
of exclusion when their universe narrowed to each other. 

After a moment, his brother let out a soft puff of air and his  
shoulders slumped. "Okay, okay. Even I have to admit this  
place has lost its allure. Let's go." He stood up, extending  
one hand to Scully while the other dusted off the seat of his  
jeans.

Grey grimaced at twanging back muscles as he hauled  
himself to his feet. He shouldered his backpack and  
motioned for his brother and Dana to lead the way,  
swatting an errant mosquito that thumbed its nose at his  
liberal application of "Deep Woods Off." They trudged  
wearily through trees and a fine mist hovering where sun-  
warmed earth met cool night air.

Mulder brooded, his rigid spine and brisk stride a clear  
rebuff to communication. Scully endured his taciturn  
silence for several minutes before plunging ahead anyway.  
"Mulder, we were right to act on the information we had.  
There's no reason to believe our presence here had any  
impact on Paige's return."

Grey's eyebrows soared. "Is that why you've got your  
panties in a twist? You think we're the reason nothing  
happened tonight?" When Mulder didn't respond, he shook  
his head. "Fox, you can't possibly--"

Mulder cut him off with a sharp swipe of his hand. "Think  
about it for a minute. We've already identified the pattern--  
a child is abducted, MIA for forty-eight hours, then  
returned. In the cases we've been able to document, there's  
been little or no variation to that sequence of events. Until  
now." He stopped, propping hands on hips. "What's the one  
variable in this case that makes it different from all the  
others? You tell me."

Grey opened his mouth to argue, took in Dana's stricken  
expression, and shut it. His brother's lips compressed to a  
thin line and he nodded, then resumed walking. "That's  
what I thought." 

Scully sighed, following with Grey at her side. "Mulder, we  
had to try. You know that."

Mulder's chin dropped and his steps slowed. "In my head.  
But, Scully, if our presence here tonight altered the course  
of events..."

Grey kicked a broken tree branch out of the way. "I had  
someone watching Kira's house when Claire was returned,  
remember? That certainly didn't seem to muck up the  
process."

Mulder shook his head, his reply short and impatient.  
"Outside. Not in her bedroom, six feet from where she  
disappeared."

"C'mon! I can't imagine--"

"I can. I've read the accounts, Grey, talked to people  
who've been there. Who've endured the experiments, the  
tests." He stopped, directing his words to Scully. "Dwayne  
Barry, Penny Northern...Max Fenig." Running a hand over  
his face, he turned back to his brother. "I've heard more  
than enough to imagine what it must be like, the pain, the  
fear. Damn it, I'm just saying that if we've done anything to  
delay that little girl making it home..."

Light flared, slicing through mist and shadow, blinding in  
its intensity. Grey staggered backward, hands reflexively  
coming up to shield his eyes. Then, just as abruptly,  
darkness returned and he was left blinking at the spots  
chasing themselves across his vision. His brother's voice  
pierced the confusion.

"Damn it! I knew we should've waited!"

"Mulder! Mulder, wa... Damn it, Mulder! Slow down."

Grey's caught a glimpse of copper hair as Dana dashed  
after Fox, who had already disappeared back the way they'd  
come at breakneck speed. Swearing under his breath as he  
stumbled over tree roots and slipped on damp leaves, Grey  
followed.

By the time he reached the campsite, Scully was kneeling  
beside the little girl's limp body while Mulder tried to coax  
a signal from the cell phone he'd extracted from his  
backpack. Scully's hands moved with confident efficiency  
as she checked the child's respiration, pulse, and pupils.

"She's alive, but completely unresponsive. Vitals are weak.  
Mulder, we need to get her out of here, right now."

Mulder stabbed the phone's buttons, growling in frustration.  
"I can't get a signal. Must be the trees--it worked back at  
the car." He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to  
the other.

Crouched down beside Scully, Grey gritted his teeth at the  
tangle of dark curls framing a small, pale face. "Go." He  
flicked his hand toward the parking lot, then stood and  
shrugged out of his backpack, tossing it to his brother. "I'll  
carry her back. You worry about getting an ambulance."

A quick dip of his head and Fox took off.

Fifty minutes later the EMTs had stabilized Paige and were  
lifting her onto a gurney for transport. Scully consulted  
with the paramedic for a moment before returning to where  
Mulder and Grey leaned against the car.

"They're taking her to Mercy Hospital in Lynchburg. I said  
I'd follow."

Mulder chewed on his lip for a moment before speaking. "I  
was hoping to go over the area now. In another hour this  
place will be swarming with police and park rangers who  
have no idea what's really happened here. They could wind  
up trampling what little evidence exists."

Scully frowned. "I can't stay, Mulder. I'll need to brief the  
doctors on everything we've learned about her condition  
and treatment."

"Not a problem--Grey can drive you. I'll poke around here  
for a bit; talk to the locals when they show up."

Scully was shaking her head before he'd finished speaking.  
"That's out of the question. There's no way I'm leaving you  
alone out here, without back up."

"Scully..."

"Forget it, Mulder. Every time I let you fly solo something  
bad happens. And let's face it--your track record with  
wooded areas leaves a lot to be desired."

Grey held up a hand before his brother could continue the  
argument. "Hang on, hang on a minute. There's an easy  
solution to this. Dana, you catch a ride with the paramedics.  
I'll stay to help Fox and we'll join you at the hospital later."

Scully hesitated, arms folded tightly across her chest.  
Before she could answer, one of the EMTs approached  
them.

"Agent Scully? We're all set. ETA should be about 30  
minutes, if you'd like to follow us."

She smiled, her troubled expression switching to cool  
professionalism. "Actually I could use a lift, if that would  
be all right."

The paramedic, whose nametag identified him as "Topher,"  
mulled over the request for a moment before nodding with  
a wry grin. "I guess that would be all right, considering the  
fact you're a doctor and a fed. You can ride up front with  
Steve."

"Thank you." Moving backward toward the ambulance, she  
cocked a finger at her husband. "Mercy Hospital, Mulder.  
You'll have to ask for directions."

One corner of his mouth turned up. "Scully, I tracked you  
all the way to Antarctica. I think I can manage."

Scully opened the door to the cab and slipped inside,  
popping her head out the open window. "Keep an eye on  
him--better still, both eyes," she warned Grey, but her lips  
twitched. "And for God's sake, Mulder, don't stick your  
fingers into anything."

Grey snorted. "Got it covered, darlin'. I won't let him out of  
my sight."

Rather than replying, Mulder's mouth snapped shut and he  
watched as the ambulance headed out with a spray of  
gravel.

As they started walking back to the campsite, Mulder  
huffed under his breath. "You know, just once, you could  
back me up instead of egg her on."

Grey pressed a palm to his chest with an exaggerated  
expression of bewilderment. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. While you're not letting me out of your sight  
I'd like to remind you who was right by my side during my  
last, less-than-stellar encounter with nature."

"That's cold, Fox. Seems to me you oughta be glad your  
partner has placed her trust in me to be here for you, to  
back you up in her absence. I know I personally am  
touched by her gesture of faith and--"

"You're touched all right. Look, do you even know what  
we're looking for?"

"Hovering spacecraft and small green men?" When Mulder  
merely quickened his pace, he lifted both hands in a  
pacifying gesture. "Sorry. Just a little paranormal humor."

"Very little."

"In answer to your question, since we're basically out in the  
middle of nowhere, we can't exactly check for power  
outages. So I'm guessing we keep our eyes open for signs  
of extreme heat, especially damage to the treeline and/or  
changes in the soil, the rocks. If you've got a compass we  
can see if there are irregularities in the magnetic field."

Mulder tripped over a tree root and pulled up short, staring  
at him as if he'd grown an extra head. "How...?"

"Been doing a little research on the Net. Even found some  
stuff by this guy who's supposedly an expert. Let's see,  
what was his name..." Grey snapped his fingers. "M. F.  
Luder."

Inwardly smirking, he plastered on the "innocent as the day  
I was born" expression until Mulder continued walking.

The smell hit him long before they reached the small  
clearing--smoke and ash, the aroma of a campfire on a  
warm summer's night. Grey crossed to the cold fire pit,  
then slowly tilted his head back, gaze travelling slowly up  
the leafy boughs of the surrounding trees to their singed  
and blackened tops.

"I'll be damned." His voice sounded weak to his own ears.  
"How'd I miss that?"

"We were focused on the girl." Mulder bent and scooped  
something from the ground. He hissed, dropping it and  
clutching his hand.

Grey jogged to his side. "What's wrong? Did you cut  
yourself?"

Mulder shook his head, tipping his chin toward the object.  
"Not cut. Burned."

Grey trained his flashlight on a small, glossy black stone,  
its surface smooth as highly polished glass. He squatted and  
poked it cautiously with a finger, astonished by the heat it  
radiated. "Let me see your hand."

Mulder extended his arm and uncurled his fingers, tilting  
his hand toward the flashlight's illumination. Grey's breath  
caught at the sight of the angry red blister already forming  
on the palm. "Shit!" Muttering to himself, he dropped his  
pack and quickly found the small first aid kit. 

Mulder peered over Grey's shoulder as he applied antibiotic  
cream and wrapped the hand in gauze. "It's just a little burn,  
nothing to worry about. I'm fine."

Grey snorted. "You think I'm worried about you? It's me  
that's going to catch hell when Dana finds out I broke my  
promise."

"Promise?"

Grey wiggled his fingers in the air. 

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Let's just finish this before the  
cavalry shows up." He pulled a handkerchief from his  
pocket, gingerly wrapped the stone in it, and slipped it into  
his backpack.

Ten minutes ticked by as they canvassed the campsite.  
Grey's back, already stiff from the long hours on the  
ground, began to protest. He straightened with a groan,  
propping hands on hips and stretching, face turned up to the  
stars. With a bittersweet twinge he remembered huddling  
under a blanket with Kate, sipping hot chocolate and  
pointing out constellations.

And then one of the stars moved.

Grey blinked, certain his tired eyes were playing tricks on  
him. The circular pinpoint of light had detached itself from  
a group of stars and looked to be streaking earthward.  
Within seconds it had doubled in size.

"Uh, Fox?"

"Hmm?"

"I..." Grey cleared a suddenly dry throat. The thing was  
closing on them at an alarming pace, growing larger at an  
exponential rate. "I think you oughta take a look at this."

The object was oval, studded with rows of colored lights,  
and  
emitted a low-pitched hum. That it was some type of craft  
was now obvious--but what? The odd shape, its incredible  
velocity, the way it moved not only horizontally but  
vertically...it was impossible that such a craft could exist. 

On this planet, anyway.

Alerted by the tone of Grey's voice, Mulder's head snapped  
up. Shock melted quickly into wonder as a broad grin lit up  
his face. He seized Grey's arm, gesturing skyward, triumph  
blazing from his eyes.

"You wanted proof, Bubba? Try that on for size!" 

The spaceship--yes, damn it, what else could you call it?--  
now hovered directly above them, blotting out the stars in  
favor of its own twinkling lights. Enormous, its diameter  
easily the size of several football fields, the rumbling buzz  
deafened him. 

Grey tore his eyes away, the gooseflesh stippling his arms  
having nothing to do with the chill night air. "Little brother,  
I will be glad to listen to you say 'I told you so' from here to  
next week. But for now I think we should get the hell out of  
here."

Mulder dropped Grey's sleeve and fumbled with the straps  
on his shoulders. "Are you crazy? Do you know how long  
I've waited for an opportunity like this? This is it, this is  
what we came for, the proof I... SHIT! The video camera  
was in Scully's pack."

"Forget the damn camera, Fox. I've got a very bad feeling  
and I don't think--"

Grey's warning transformed into a gasp as a shaft of  
brilliant, blue-white light shot down from the ship to engulf  
his brother. Fox's eyes, huge in his now pale face, fastened  
onto Grey, and he flung out an arm to grab hold of his  
brother. A gentle pulse, the beam growing momentarily  
brighter, then subsiding, and the arm jerked to a stop. The  
shock, then panic in his Fox's eyes conveyed to Grey that  
he was desperately struggling against some form of  
restraint, yet he remained motionless.

Grey launched himself forward, intending to tackle his  
brother, stunned when he, too, remained solidly in place.  
"NO!"

"Grey! Grey help me! You have to--" The light oscillated  
again and Fox's plea cut off midstream, as if invisible  
fingers had wrapped around his throat.

Grey's limbs, heavy, leaden, could have been stone. He  
grappled with the paralysis, fingers straining toward Fox's  
outstretched arm, but found he could barely blink.

"I can't! Fox, I can't move." His voice cracked with  
frustration and anguish when he could not force his  
traitorous body to obey. "You have to fight, break free from  
the light."

Though his brother's resistance weakened with each  
continuing pulse of light, his expressive eyes remained  
locked onto Grey, eloquently communicating his impotence  
and the plea for help he could no longer utter. The next  
throb flared with greater intensity, as if whatever controlled  
it had grown impatient with Fox's refusal to capitulate. His  
brother's eyes flew open wider, a silent scream, then  
fluttered shut. His head flopped forward and his arms went  
limp.

"Fox!" Grey screamed the name, features twisting into a  
snarl. "Let him go, you bastards! I'll kill you, I swear to  
God. Foooox!"

One final pulse, then the light flared to white-hot radiance,  
slicing through Grey's head like a knife, blinding him. He  
screamed again, this time in agony. Then everything went  
blessedly dark.

 

Mercy Hospital  
Lynchburg, VA  
6:42 AM

 

Scully massaged throbbing temples as she watched Dr.  
Joseph "You Can Call Me Joe" Ramos explain once again  
why a comatose little girl needed a procedure usually  
reserved for the mentally ill. When she could bear Mrs.  
Thompson's weeping and Mr. Thompson's anger no longer,  
Scully turned from the window. 

Having done all she could for Paige and her parents, she  
ached to go home. The weariness bowing her shoulders and  
dragging her feet had as much to do with emotional fatigue  
as physical. One more child on the ever-growing list of  
victims, yet they were no nearer to obtaining the proof they  
needed, nor to finding the means to stop the abductions.  
She sighed. Tonight they'd come so close...

A nurse stopped her as she headed down the corridor  
toward the ICU doors. "Doctor Scully? There's someone  
waiting for you in the lounge. He says it's urgent."

"Thank you." Scully quickened her steps, hoping for a hot  
bath and Mulder in her near future. Her lips quirked. And  
not necessarily in that order. 

Pushing open the swinging doors and walking toward the  
lounge, she spotted a lone figure, head bowed, pacing back  
and forth in front of the windows. Even at a distance she  
could easily identify Grey by his dark, unruly hair. Mulder  
was nowhere in sight.

"If Mulder's gone for coffee there'd better be a cup with my  
name on it. And not that sludge from the machine in the--"

She broke off when Grey's head flew up and he spun to  
face her. One look at the devastation on his features made  
her stomach churn. Shock the doctor in her noted clinically.  
He's in shock.

"Grey?"

He started to speak but the words seemed to catch in his  
throat. "Dana, I..."

"Grey?" She forced her voice to be soft, calm. "Where's  
Mulder?"

He sucked in a breath, wrestling for control, then the words  
tumbled from his lips. "We...There were lights, a . . .a craft.  
Maybe the same one that brought Paige back, I don't know.  
I saw it, Dana--did you ever think you'd hear me say that?  
I'm actually admitting to seeing a spaceship." His ragged  
laugh carried an edge of hysteria. "Fox wanted to stand  
there and film it, for God's sake. Can you believe it?"

Peripherally, she saw hands that clenched and trembled,  
heard a voice roughened by screams, but all she could  
focus on were his reddened, dazed eyes. And in her heart  
she knew.

"No," she whispered, tears clogging her throat. "Mulder."

Grey's face crumpled and he looked away, blinking hard. "I  
lost him. They took Fox, and I couldn't stop them. He  
begged me to help him, and I couldn't do a damn thing."

"The police--?"

"Arrived just in time to find me passed out cold on the  
ground. They're still out there, searching the woods, even  
though I told them a million times they won't find him. One  
of them drove me here." He pressed the heels of his  
shaking hands into his eyes. "I'm sorry, Dana. I'm so sorry."

Two unsteady steps and she'd wrapped her arms around his  
waist, fingers clutching the soft fabric of his tee shirt.  
Slowly, his arms came down to enfold her. They held on to  
each other that way for a long time. When Scully finally  
released him and stepped back, scanning his face, her eyes  
were red but dry.

Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, Grey walked over to the  
window, hands dangling at his side and shoulders hunched.  
The body language, so similar to another's, twisted the  
dagger in Scully's heart. She drew in a breath and ruthlessly  
shoved the pain aside.

"There are two things I need you to believe, Grey. Without  
question, without compromise. Will you do that for me?"

He nodded without turning around, but she could tell he  
was listening intently.

"First, believe that I don't blame you. You are not  
responsible for what happened to Mulder--it's not your  
fault."

"What's the second thing?" His voice was sandpaper.

Scully walked over and stood beside him, linking their  
fingers and waiting until he met her gaze. 

"We will get him back.”

 

Nine weeks later

Hoover Building  
Friday  
11:22 PM

 

Phone cradled between shoulder and chin, one hand jotted  
notes while the other massaged the ache above her right  
temple. After a moment Scully dropped the pencil and just  
listened, eyes slipping shut in resignation.

"You're certain? Did you check private hospitals as well as  
public?"

"Police stations, highway patrol, hospitals, even clinics. No  
one matching Mulder's description--hell, not even a single  
John Doe--has turned up within a fifty mile radius of the  
hot spot." Frohike paused. When he resumed speaking the  
apology in his tone held a crumb of pity.

"Scully--Dana. We're doing everything we can, using every  
resource at our disposal. If he turns up, we'll be the first to  
know it."

"When."

"What?"

"*When* he turns up you'll be first to know."

The pause was longer this time, and Scully could  
practically see the hangdog expression on his face. "Yeah.  
Get some sleep, Scully. We'll be in touch."

Scully replaced the receiver, straightening a stack of papers  
she'd inadvertently displaced and smoothing her palm over  
the file on the blotter. Sightings in the deep woods of  
Michigan's Upper Peninsula--a wild, half human-half beast  
creature Mulder had hoped might prove to be another "New  
Jersey Devil." The open folder lay just as he'd left it--as  
was the sloppy pile of receipts from their last out-of-town  
case, his favorite Knicks cup with a ring of dried coffee  
staining the bottom, and the fresh crop of pencils poking  
out of the ceiling above her head.

Everything just as Mulder had left it, waiting for him to  
return. 

Scully lifted the nameplate from its perch amid the clutter,  
tracing a fingertip over the letters. Her throat ached from  
suppressing the tears burning behind her eyes. Soul-deep  
weariness pressed down upon her, smothering her like a  
heavy blanket. Weariness born of fruitless searching, of  
hopes raised one moment only to be dashed the next. She'd  
spent every spare moment working with Grey and the  
Gunmen, tracking UFO hotspots, calling local police  
departments, hospitals...morgues. Nine weeks and two false  
alarms later, she had only an empty bed and the dark circles  
beneath her eyes to show for her efforts.

A throat cleared, startlingly loud in the silence. Scully  
bolted upright in the chair, fumbling for the nameplate  
when it nearly slipped from her fingers. Skinner stood in  
the doorway, hands shoved into the pockets of his charcoal  
dress pants, tie still pristinely knotted around the neck of a  
crisp white shirt.

"Agent Scully."

"Sir." Scully stood, self-consciously smoothing her skirt.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear the elevator. Please, come in."

He walked to the center of the room, eyes roaming over  
newspaper clippings and photos, then sat in the chair on the  
other side of Mulder's desk. When Scully remained  
standing, he gestured for her to reclaim her own seat. She  
lowered herself onto the edge, spine stiff. Realizing her  
fingers still clutched the nameplate, she set it quickly on the  
blotter.

"Was there something you needed, Sir? I was actually on  
my way out the door."

Skinner's raised eyebrow said he doubted the veracity of  
her statement, but he let it slide. "I need to talk to you about  
the future of the X-Files department, Agent Scully, and  
your role in it."

All her alarm bells began clanging. "What are you saying?"

Skinner tightened his lips, a small muscle twitching along  
his jawline. "I'm saying you've run out of time. The brass  
are always looking to shut down the X-Files and now  
Mulder's given them the perfect excuse."

"Mulder was abducted. Against his will. It's hardly his fault  
that he's not here to run the department." She annunciated  
each word with razor sharp precision.

Skinner leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees.  
"That's not how they see it, Scully. To them this is just one  
more instance of Mulder haring off without letting anyone  
know where he's gone. Only this time he hasn't bothered to  
come back."

Scully curled her hands into fists. "That's a lie. Grey was  
there when Mulder was taken, you *heard* his testimony."

"I know. I believe him. Unfortunately, I'm not the one who  
needs to be convinced."

Scully poked her tongue into her cheek and counted to five.  
"I won't let them shut us down, shut Mulder down. I'm  
willing to do whatever it takes to keep the Files open."

Skinner sat back, arms folded across his chest. "Are you  
sure?"

"Yes." She looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Why do  
I get the feeling I'm going to like this even less than what  
you've already said?"

"You've got to get out in the field again, Scully. Start  
investigating X-Files instead of catching up on paperwork  
and loaning yourself out to Quantico."

"I can do that."

"Not without a partner."

His words hit her like a physical blow, a right cross she'd  
never expected. Scully tipped her chin up and offered her  
boss her best steely-eyed glare.

"I have a partner."

"You can't operate in the field without back-up, Agent.  
Mulder bent a lot of rules, but even he couldn't get around  
that one."

"And if I refuse?"

Skinner gritted his teeth. "They close the X-Files and you  
wind up with a teaching position at Quantico. I hear the  
Pathology department has an opening now that Kramer is  
on maternity leave."

Scully closed her eyes. "In other words, I have no choice."  
She opened them and stood, her posture rigidly correct. "I  
hope I at least have some input into which agent you  
choose."

Skinner also stood, eyes softening along with the tone of  
his voice. "Of course. This doesn't have to be a bad thing.  
You've been running yourself ragged trying to handle  
things alone. Another body down here will ease the  
workload, give you more time for...other things."

Scully resisted the urge to turn away. She knew how she  
must look to Skinner--the rumpled suit that hung on her  
small frame since she'd dropped a few pounds, the pallor  
even cosmetics couldn't disguise. Prepared for pity, his next  
words took her completely by surprise.

"My hands may be tied here, Scully, but the Bureau doesn't  
own me once I walk out that door. If there's anything I can  
do, anything at all..."

Intense brown eyes convinced her the offer was genuine.  
Scully's lips curved despite the pain in her chest. "Thank  
you."

Skinner dipped his head and walked to the door. He paused  
in the hallway, one hand on the jamb. "This is temporary,  
Agent Scully. We both know that."

"Yes, sir."

"Get some sleep."

"I will."

After Skinner's footsteps faded down the hallway, she  
operated on autopilot--dumping coffee and rinsing the pot,  
shutting down the computer, packing her briefcase. She'd  
reached the door, finger poised to turn off the lights, when  
a glint of metal caught her eye. Setting down her briefcase,  
she walked slowly back to Mulder's desk. Carefully,  
reverently, she picked up the nameplate from the blotter  
and set it back on the edge of the desk, where it belonged.

Just as he'd left it.

Shouldering her briefcase, she flicked off the lights and  
locked the door.

 

1616 Buckingham Drive  
Bethesda  
11:58 PM

He squinted under the abrupt flare of the porch light,  
blinking eyes gritty from too much driving and too little  
sleep. Kristen pushed open the screen door and stood aside,  
smothering a yawn with the back of one hand. Her voice  
was rusty with sleep.

"I thought you weren't coming until the morning."

Grey squeezed past her and set his duffel on the tile.  
"Thought you'd be glad to see me." He shook his head with  
mock regret. "I guess the thrill really is gone."

She chuckled throatily and slid into his arms. Her lips were  
warm and firm, her body soft where it molded to his. Grey  
nuzzled skin smelling faintly of lavender, smiling.

"Then again..."

Kristen stepped back, evading his grasping hands. She  
scrutinized his face, brow furrowing. "It's not you showing  
up early, it's what it took to get you here." She brushed the  
flesh beneath his eye with a fingertip. "You're exhausted,  
Grey. It's crazy to make that trip running on fumes. You  
could have fallen asleep at the wheel, driven into a truck."

He snagged the silky sleeve of her robe and she allowed  
him to draw her back into an embrace with minimal protest.  
Grey ducked his head to rest his chin on her shoulder,  
releasing a gusty sigh.

"I'm here and I'm in one piece. Can we just, please, leave it  
at that?"

Kristen must have heard something in his voice. One hand  
tightened around his waist while the other came up to  
stroke through his hair. "Talk to me."

He smiled into her neck. "Okay. Anything in particular  
you'd like me to talk about?"

"Grey."

"Could I have a glass of water first?"

She chuffed and wriggled out of his arms, hooking his  
fingers with her own and leading him down the hallway to  
the kitchen. Grey leaned up against the counter while she  
filled a glass with ice and water. Placing it into his hand  
with a flourish, she propped herself up beside him, arms  
laced across her chest.

Grey drained the glass, set it down, and wiped his mouth  
with the back of his hand. Very aware of Kristen's patient  
but expectant silence, he sucked in a deep breath and  
scrubbed his face with both hands.

"It's been more than nine weeks."

Her shoulder nestled more firmly against his. "I know."

"Nine weeks and we're not a damn bit closer to finding  
him." He shook his head. "This isn't working, Kris.  
Something has to change."

"I know how frustrated you are. Dana isn't doing any  
better--whenever I see her at work, she's on edge. I just  
don't see what you can do that you aren't already doing."

"I could be spending a hell of a lot more time looking for  
him." Grey growled the words through clenched teeth.

"Sweetheart, ease up on yourself. You're already burning  
the candle at both ends. No one knows better than I how  
hard you've tried to find Fox. But there aren't enough hours  
in the day for you to do your job and spend any more time  
on this."

"I know. That's why I'm not going to be doing my job."

Kristen's head whipped around, shock written in her eyes.  
"What?"

"As of 6:00 PM this evening I'm on an indefinite leave of  
absence." Grey showed her a toothy smile. "Mind if I stay a  
little longer than just the weekend?"

"You... Grey are you sure you've thought this through?"

"Of course I have. If I can't stay here I'll camp out on Fox  
and Dana's couch."

"Damn it, Grey!"

He stepped away from the counter and turned to face her.  
"Did you hear what I said, Kris? It's been *nine* weeks and  
Fox is still out there, somewhere, going through God  
knows what. This isn't working. Something had to change,  
so damn it, *I*did."

She flinched a little at the controlled anger. "I'm not  
questioning the urgency of finding your brother. I'm an FBI  
agent and well aware of the statistics: the longer someone is  
missing greater the odds they won't be found alive. But this  
is your job we're talking about, a job you love. How long  
will they be willing to wait?"

"I don't give a shit." When Kristen merely looked at him  
with compassion, his shoulders slumped. "Everything will  
work out. Mark will hold down the fort for me and frankly,  
I'm too good at what I do for them not to take me back."

He snatched the empty water glass and took it to the sink.  
Bracing his palms on the counter, he stared at a swath of  
stars through the small window. "I owe him this, Kris. I  
was right there, and I did *nothing*. Whatever it takes, I'm  
going to get him back."

Arms slid around his waist and warmth pressed against his  
spine. "Why don't you bring in your other bags? I'll make  
some room in my closet and dresser."

His chin dropped to his chest and his lips curved. "I love  
you."

He felt her smile against the back of his neck. "Back at ya.  
Now go get those bags so we can both get some sleep."

Grey covered her hands with his own. "That sounds good,  
darlin'. That sounds real good."

Three weeks later

Georgetown  
Thursday  
7:22 PM

 

The front door slammed. Grey's hand jerked the cup  
halfway to his lips, sloshing water onto his lap. Cursing, he  
reluctantly abandoned the computer and walked into the  
kitchen for a towel. Scully was already there, hosing down  
a pair of black pumps over the sink. Brows knit together,  
lips compressed to a thin, bloodless line, she scrubbed at  
the shoes with short, harsh strokes.

Grey picked up a towel and mopped off the front of his  
shirt. "Hey, darlin'. How was your day?"

Scully blew a wisp of hair from her face. "I'm partnered  
with an incompetent idiot, how the hell do you think my  
day was?"

"That good, huh?"

"Callahan didn't think it was necessary to hold on to the  
suspect, since he was already cuffed. 'C'mon, Agent Scully,  
how far could the guy get?'" She mimicked her temporary  
partner's nasal twang with deadly accuracy.

Grey surveyed her mud-splattered shoes, suit, and face.  
"Pretty far, I take it."

"Nearly a mile. Across a field roughly the consistency of  
chocolate pudding. Turns out the guy went to college on a  
track scholarship. That, of course, was years before he  
started passing himself off as a faith healer and conning a  
lot of desperate people." She dried her hands on his towel,  
leaving the shoes in the sink.

Grey took it back and wiped a smudge of dirt from her  
cheek. "So, I take it Callahan has joined the ranks of the X-  
Files undead?"

Scully pursed her lips and shouldered past him, heading  
into the bedroom. "Three people can hardly be considered  
an army, Grey, and that's not funny."

Grey resumed his seat at the computer, raising his voice to  
be heard. "It's just that I don't think Walt intended the  
selection of Fox's stand-in to turn into an episode of  
Survivor."

Silence.

"What the hell kind of crack is that?"

He swiveled his chair, facing her. She leaned in the  
doorway, brow furrowed and teeth clenched. Now minus  
suit jacket and hose, she held a bath towel in one hand.  
Grey mentally chastised himself for poking an already  
pissed woman licensed to carry a weapon. Sighing, he dug  
the hole deeper.

"Dana, I'm only suggesting that you may not exactly be  
keeping an entirely open mind." He winced at his wishy-  
washy delivery. "I mean, c'mon. They can't all be that bad."

"Bad? Adams only cared about staying in one piece till  
retirement, Parkinson couldn't think outside the box if his  
life depended on it, Callahan refused to take any kind of  
direction--I'm telling you, Grey, they were all hopeless!  
None of them were X-Files material, none of them  
were...were--"

"Fox."

The quietly uttered name sucked the wind from her sails.  
Shock and grief twisted her mouth and glistened in her  
eyes. She quickly regained control, lips relaxing, the tight  
lines around her eyes and mouth easing, but Grey could see  
the effort it cost.

She tipped up her chin, voice brittle. "You're putting words  
in my mouth."

Grey shook his head. "I'm putting voice to what's already in  
your heart." He got up, walked over, and stood in front of  
her, ducking his head to look into her eyes. "Darlin', we  
both know Fox Mulder is one of a kind. So how 'bout you  
stop using him as the blueprint for that job description?"

"You don't understand." The protest started strong but  
faded to a whisper.

"What? That sharing the office again is harder than being  
alone? Or that it just about kills you every time you turn  
and see the person watching your back isn't Fox?"

Her breath hitched and her face crumpled. His own chest  
tight, Grey drew her over to the couch and took her into his  
arms. Hands fisted in his tee shirt, tears hot against his  
neck, her small body trembled with repressed sobs. Grey  
swallowed the bitter taste of his own guilt and held on,  
shushing her with murmured words of comfort that rang  
hollow to his own ears.

Eventually she sat up, fingers swiping at the tear tracks on  
her cheeks. Her eyes dodged his, resting on a wet and  
muddy spot beneath the collar of his shirt, and she  
grimaced.

"Sorry."

"Not a problem. 'S why God invented washing machines."  
Grey dropped his head onto the back of the couch. "I miss  
him, too."

Dana tensed, then relaxed into his side, head on his  
shoulder. "Did Mulder ever tell you how we came to be  
partners?"

Grey smiled up at the ceiling. "He said the smoking man  
sent you to spy on him, to shut him down. But you turned  
around and kicked the bastard's skinny excuse for an ass  
instead."

A glimmer of amusement crept past the weariness in her  
voice. "Sounds like Mulder." A pause, and she continued,  
pensive. "I never intended to do their dirty work for them.  
I'd joined the FBI hoping to distinguish myself. Agreeing to  
take on the X-Files was supposed to be just a stepping  
stone to bigger and better things."

"Don't know how to break this to you, but nine years is a  
helluva big stepping stone."

"Tell me about it."

"What happened?"

"Fox Mulder happened." She exhaled through her nose. "I'd  
heard all about him, of course. Mulder was a legend in his  
own time."

"For his profiling abilities."

She nodded. "And for torpedoing his own career. There he  
was, the golden boy, destined to become the Bureau's  
youngest A.D., and he chucks it all to chase aliens. Half the  
agents I knew pitied him; the other half made him the  
punchline of a lot of cruel jokes."

"Not exactly good company for someone climbing the  
ladder to success."

"Very true. But...I was intrigued. And maybe a little  
arrogant. After all, I'd dazzled my professors, my fellow  
students at the academy." She laughed quietly to herself. "I  
figured I'd walk into that basement office and dazzle Fox  
Mulder, too."

"Way I heard it, that's just what you did."

Scully snorted. "That's not exactly how I remember it. 'So  
who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?'"  
She mimicked Mulder's dry delivery, then huffed. "I  
walked away from that first meeting equally impressed and  
annoyed. He was every bit as brilliant as I'd been told, and  
twice as irritating."

Grey chuckled. "I hear you. We didn't exactly hit it off in  
the beginning either." His grin turned wistful. "He kinda  
grows on you, though."

"He won me over on our very first case. I'd never known  
anyone so passionate about his beliefs. All that fire and  
enthusiasm--he was a vortex I couldn't help but be sucked  
into. When he opened up to me one night, confided in me  
about his sister, I began to understand. I couldn't give  
credence to his certainty that aliens had abducted  
Samantha. But I felt he deserved to know the truth, and I  
was confident I could help him discover it."

She sighed. "It was a journey I undertook willingly, if a bit  
naively."

"One that came at a high price."

"Higher than I ever could have imagined."

"Regrets?"

Her lips curved but her eyes welled up. "I once told Mulder  
I wouldn't change a day."

Grey shuddered theatrically. "Flukemen? Liver-eating  
mutants? You sure about that?"

He got the raised eyebrow, then Dana sighed again.  
"Anyway, you've made your point. Whomever Skinner  
sends to replace Callahan...well...I'll try not to set the bar so  
high."

Silence grew between them. Despite his reluctance to  
extract his weary body from the soft cushions, Grey hauled  
himself upright. "When was the last time you consumed  
anything but coffee or diet soda?"

Dana lifted one shoulder, also getting to her feet. "I've  
eaten."

"Really? See, where I come from half a bagel or a cup of  
yogurt don't count."

Dana's blank expression transformed to a scowl. "That little  
sneak. Is that why she keeps dropping by my office?  
You've got her spying on me?"

Grey held up both hands. "This is Kristen we're talking  
about. No one 'gets' her to do anything unless she damn  
well wants to." He shrugged. "She's worried about you.  
Now why don't you clean up and I'll fix us something to  
eat?"

"Speaking of Kristen--won't she be expecting you? I don't  
need a babysitter, Grey. I'm capable of feeding myself."  
She flushed when Grey folded his arms and deliberately  
looked her up and down.

"All evidence to the contrary, darlin'. Kris is working late  
tonight, which is why I came over here to use the computer.  
Besides, I figured maybe you'd like a little company. You  
telling me you're gonna make me eat dinner alone?" 

Scully rolled her eyes, lips twitching. "Oh, God, not the  
pout. Mulder always..." She caught herself, blinking hard.

Grey moved toward the kitchen, giving her space. "You've  
got twenty minutes. Not sure what I'm cooking, but I  
guarantee it'll be ready by then."

True to his word, twenty minutes later Scully walked into a  
kitchen filled with the aroma of eggs and freshly brewed  
coffee. 

"Smells good," she said, taking her usual seat at the table.

Grey set a piping hot omelet and a mug in front of her  
before retrieving his own food and claiming a seat across  
the table. When she dug into her meal with increasing  
enthusiasm, a smug smile tugged the corners of his mouth.

Scully looked away when she caught him gloating, a  
distinctly sheepish expression on her face. "I guess I was  
hungrier than I realized."

"Glad to hear it."

They ate in companionable silence. When he'd finished,  
Grey shoved back his chair and stretched out long legs,  
fingers laced across the back of his neck. Stomach full,  
fatigue descended with a vengeance, weighting his eyelids  
and fuzzing his head.

"You know, you're a fine one to be delivering lectures. Just  
how much sleep have you gotten lately?"

His eyes popped open and he straightened, smothering the  
yawn that tried to sneak past his lips. "I've slept."

She pursed her lips. "About as much as I've eaten, I'd  
imagine."

"It's not the same."

"Really?" Sarcasm dripped from the word. "All evidence to  
the contrary."

His brows drew together and his tone became sharp.  
"You've been deliberately skipping meals, Dana. If I'm  
short on sleep, it's not for lack of trying." 

Mentally berating himself for revealing too much, Grey  
snatched up both their plates and carried them to the sink.  
He turned the water on hot, scrubbing egg and dried cheese  
from the porcelain and ignoring the scrape of her chair  
across the tile.

"Grey."

She touched his arm, stilling the frenetic movements. He  
released a long breath but didn't object when she reached  
around him to shut off the water.

"Why didn't you tell me you were having trouble  
sleeping?"

"Why didn't you tell me you'd dropped five pounds?" He  
bit back the anger she didn't deserve, voice gentling.  
"Anyway, falling asleep is not the problem."

"Nightmares."

"Oh yeah."

"Scale of one to ten?"

Her voice wavered a little and he abruptly wondered how  
often she and Fox had played out this scene. He forced a  
chuckle into his reply.

"I'd give 'em a thirteen--unless practically assaulting your  
bed-partner ranks a lot lower than I think."

Scully didn't have a comeback for that one. Instead she  
placed a dishtowel into his hands and nudged him aside,  
filling the sink with soapy water. But he wasn't off the hook  
yet.

"You're dreaming about Mulder's abduction?"

Grey really, *really* didn't want to talk about this. But how  
could he ask her to bare her soul and then hold back? He  
ran the towel over a slippery plate with more care than  
necessary, searching for the words.

"Sometimes. Nothing earth shattering there--he's screaming  
for help and I'm... You don't have to point out the irony, by  
the way. Three years of listening to Fox relive Samantha's  
abduction and now I get hands-on experience."

"We've been through this, Grey. There was nothing you  
could have done." When he concentrated all his attention  
on polishing a plate she poked him with her elbow. "Do  
you hold Mulder responsible for what happened to  
Samantha?"

"'Course not."

She gestured with a sudsy hand--*Well, then?*

"He was a twelve-year-old kid. I, on the other hand, am a  
supposedly competent professional law enforcement--"

"Yadda."

Grey choked. "Yadda?"

"As in yeah, yeah, sure, fine, whatever." Dana dried her  
hands, oblivious that she sounded exactly like Fox. 

A line formed between her brows. "You said *sometimes*  
you dream about Mulder being taken. What else are the  
nightmares about?"

Shit. He so did not want to go there. Images flashed  
through his mind--Fox strapped to a metal table in a stark  
white room, laid out like some alien science project.  
Huddled in a ball on the floor, rocking, all signs of that  
incredible intellect wiped from his blank face and dead  
eyes. Dropped into a remote field in a godforsaken stretch  
of no man's land, limp, cold...lifeless. 

Exhaustion short-circuited his poker face. Grey saw his  
own horror creep into her eyes. He'd opened his mouth,  
wanting to reassure, wanting to deny, when the phone rang.

Scully scooped it up and disappeared into the other room.  
Grateful for the reprieve, Grey finished drying the dishes  
and put them into the cupboard. He was debating whether  
to dump the remaining coffee when Dana's voice pierced  
his sleep-deprived fog. Tossing aside the dishcloth, he  
bolted for the living room.

Scully was jotting something on a legal pad, the phone in a  
white-knuckled grip. "How sure are you?...Damn it, don't  
patronize me! We've been down this road before--more  
than once--and I...I'm not sure I can handle another  
disappointment, Melvin. How sure are you?"

She looked up at Grey as she listened. His heart stuttered at  
the flicker of hope in her wide blue eyes.

"I'll drive out there tonight...No, there's no sense all of us  
going, we don't even know for certain it's him...I won't be  
alone.  
Grey--?" He nodded emphatically. "--Grey will come with  
me. We'll call as soon as we know anything." Whatever the  
little man said next caused her eyes to fill. "I will."

Scully hung up the phone and looked at Grey.

"The boys located a John Doe in a hospital in Farmville,  
Virginia. That's less than thirty miles from Holiday Lake  
State Park. He fits Mulder's description."

Grey swallowed, his throat dry as sandpaper. "Condition?"

"Unconscious. The rest is sketchy."

Grey studied her face. "There's something else you haven't  
told me. Something that has you believing it's him."

"The doctor wouldn't tell Frohike much, but he did mention  
something odd. When the John Doe turned up he was  
holding something in his right hand. They could barely pry  
it from his fingers."

"What was it?"

"Some kind of unusual rock. Smooth and polished, like  
black glass. The doctor couldn't figure out why Mulder  
would be clutching it so tightly." She leaned in closer. "It  
was warm, Grey. Almost too warm to touch."

The stuttering in his chest became a jackhammer. "Let's  
go."

 

Southside Community Hospital  
Farmville, VA  
7:13 AM

 

Three phone calls, a four-hour road trip, one intern, and  
five nurses later, Scully paced the small waiting room.  
Arriving at the hospital in the middle of the graveyard shift,  
they'd slogged their way through a string of medical  
personnel, eventually landing here to wait for the doctor.  
Her back ached from the uncomfortable car seat, her eyes  
burned after a sleepless night, and her stomach churned  
with emptiness and apprehension. Grey's quiescence as he  
sat hunched over on the small couch irrationally irritated  
her, like salt in an open wound.

"How can you be so calm?"

She wanted to snatch back the rebuke when he lifted his  
head to reveal bloodshot eyes. "Don't pay any attention to  
the man behind the curtain," he replied, then shook his head  
with wry amusement. "It's all an illusion. I'm dyin' here,  
Dana. It was either sit down or throw up."

Her lips twitched and the tight muscles in her shoulders  
eased a bit. "Wise choice."

A doctor stopped at the nurses' station, conferred briefly,  
and strode toward them. Scully met him halfway, Grey on  
her heels.

"Doctor Hammond?" She offered her hand, transfixed and  
a bit disconcerted by the man's uncanny resemblance to her  
father.

"Doctor Scully, I presume." His clasp was warm and firm,  
his gaze direct. "And Detective Mckenzie?"

Grey nodded as his hand received the same treatment.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, I came as soon as I could. Your  
friend, Mr. Frohike, indicated you might know the identity  
of our John Doe?"

Scully steadied her voice. "We're hoping he's my husband,  
Fox Mulder. He was abducted from this area over three  
months ago."

"The description does seem to match. Some hikers  
stumbled across our man about forty minutes from here, in  
Bear Creek State Park. We're one of the better-equipped  
hospitals in this area, so they brought him here. He was  
naked when they found him, and has yet to regain  
consciousness. Lacking any means of identifying him, I  
was forced to turn the matter over to the sheriff's  
department. They'd planned to run his fingerprints, before  
you called."

"Could we see him?"

Hammond smiled, his brown eyes warm. "Of course. Right  
this way."

Scully's vision narrowed to the impossibly long corridor  
stretching before her, the routine hospital bustle, and even  
Grey's presence, fading to peripheral awareness. On some  
level she registered he and Hammond making polite  
conversation but the words were an unintelligible drone.  
When they finally stepped into the ICU, Grey's arm slipped  
around her shoulders.

Hammond led them to the farthest cubicle and drew aside  
the privacy curtain.

"Oh my God."

She stared at Mulder's pale, thin face, mesmerized, until a  
rush of tears blurred it and her legs buckled. Blinking  
furiously, she broke free from Grey and crossed to the bed.

"Mulder."

Three months, two false alarms, and countless dead ends.  
She had to touch, to know he was real. Scully smoothed her  
palm down his stubbled cheek, brushed the pad of her  
thumb over dry, cracked lips, stroked her fingertips through  
matted, dark hair. Mulder lay unresponsive, warm skin and  
beeping machinery the only indications he remained  
tethered to life.

Hammond cleared his throat. "Our mystery man is your  
husband." 

"What is his condition?"

The doctor plucked Mulder's chart from the end of the bed.  
"When we admitted him, he was suffering from  
malnutrition, dehydration, and the early stages of exposure.  
We've restored core body temperature, rehydrated him, and  
started him on hyperalimentation through a central line. He  
should be graduating to the step down unit later today. I'd  
have moved him earlier, but had hoped he'd awaken first."

"Why hasn't he?" Grey's quiet question beat Scully to the  
punch. He'd circled to the opposite side of the bed and  
leaned on the rail, eyes locked onto his brother's face.

Hammond flipped the chart shut. "I wish I had an answer  
for you. The toxicology screen was negative, there's no  
external indication of head trauma, and his CT scan was  
clean. I can find no physical cause for this persistent state  
of unconsciousness. It's almost as if..."

"As if?" Scully prompted when Hammond showed no sign  
of finishing the cryptic statement.

Hammond sighed. "As if he doesn't want to wake up.  
Doctor Scully, you and I both know the mind wields great  
power over healing. Perhaps this is a subconscious method  
of self-protection."

Scully bit the inside of her cheek, ruthlessly tamping down  
the images that rose to mind, refusing to contemplate the  
horrors Mulder might have endured. 

"Doctor Hammond, Mr. Frohike may have mentioned that  
my husband and I are agents with the Federal Bureau of  
Investigation. As part of the inquiry into his abduction, I'll  
need you to run some additional tests."

"Such as?"

"Blood samples to be sent to our labs in DC, an MRI, x-  
rays--"

Hammond's raised a hand. "X-rays?"

"In cases similar to Agent Mulder's, victims have been  
returned with metal chips implanted in their bodies."

"Chips?" His eyebrows soared. "As in computer chips?"

"Something like that. At any rate, it's imperative that we  
determine whether Agent Mulder is carrying any such  
devices."

Hammond inclined his head. "Let's get him settled in the  
step-down unit. We'll proceed from there."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Hammond turned toward the door. "I'm  
late for rounds, so--"

"Of course. Please don't let us keep you." Scully sat on the  
edge of the bed, taking Mulder's hand. Following her lead,  
Grey hooked a chair with is foot and sat, folding his arms  
comfortably across his chest.

The slight curve to Hammond's mouth said he'd received  
the message, loud and clear. "Cindy is Agent Mulder's  
nurse." Hammond indicated a young woman with close-  
cropped, strawberry-blonde hair working behind the desk.  
"If you have any questions or concerns, I'm sure she'll be  
happy to help you."

Once Hammond left, Grey reached out a tentative hand and  
covered his brother's. His voice rasped with emotion. "I  
haven't seen him this thin since--"

"Don't, Grey. We have him back; he's safe. We'll deal with  
the rest." 

She smoothed back long, tangled strands of hair that  
tumbled across Mulder's brow and down his neck, leaning  
closer to murmur in his ear. "Do you hear me, Mulder?  
You're safe now. Wherever you've gone, it's time to come  
back." She pressed a kiss to his forehead, his mouth, then  
laid her head carefully on his chest. 

 

10:43 AM

"Grey? You still there, man?"

Grey's head snapped up and his eyes flew open. He  
scrambled for the receiver, catching it before it hit the  
linoleum, and tucked it against his ear.

"I'm awa--here, I'm here." He swigged a mouthful of tepid  
coffee, grimacing. "What was that you were saying?"

Langly snorted. "Dude, you are in serious need of pillow  
time. I asked if you were sure we shouldn't come down  
there. We could, you know, check out the hospital more  
thoroughly, make sure everything's on the up and up."

What an image. Grey choked, nearly inhaling coffee. "Ahh,  
no, no, that's not necessary. We'd, um, rather you guys stay  
put, you know, in case we need you to, uh, track  
down...stuff."

"Can do. Just keep us posted on the G-man."

"We will."

Grey hung up the phone with a jaw-cracking yawn. Langly  
was right about one thing--he desperately needed sleep.  
Dozing off while talking to the Gunmen on a payphone  
clearly proved he'd lost his edge.

He navigated a maze of hallways until he located Dana just  
outside an area labeled "Diagnostic Imaging." Propped  
against the wall, eyes closed, she looked as exhausted as he  
felt.

"Hey."

Her eyes popped open as he leaned beside her. "Did you  
reach the boys?"

"Yup. They'd already done a full background check on Dr.  
Hammond. He's squeaky clean, in case you were  
wondering."

"That's good to know, but I expected it. I don't think  
Spender or his associates had anything to do with what's  
happened to Mulder."

"For once." Grey ground the heels of his hands into gritty  
eyes. "All three of them were ready to hop on the next  
plane out. I, uh, discouraged that plan."

Scully huffed, half amusement, half dismay. "And for that  
I'm eternally grateful. We've got enough on our hands  
without throwing those three into the mix."

"You spoke to Walt?"

"Briefly. Kim hunted him down between meetings. He  
promised he'd alert the lab to expect Mulder's blood  
samples and run interference with the local sheriff's office.  
We're to keep him posted on...Mulder's condition." She  
uttered the last two words around a yawn. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not exactly firing on all cylinders myself."  
Grey's head smacked the wall with a soft thud. "We're both  
running on fumes, Dana. We can't function much longer  
without sleep."

Her body stiffened. "I'm not leaving him alone."

"I'm not suggesting we should. The boys booked us a room  
in a nearby motel. Once Fox is done here and settled in his  
new digs, we can spell each other. One of us will always be  
with him."

Her grudging nod was a pleasant surprise--he'd expected an  
argument. When she did speak, after several minutes of  
silence, her voice vibrated with tension.

"I'm afraid of what they're going to find."

Grey had to search hard for a comforting response.  
"Hammond said the CT scan was clean."

"That was just his head. They're doing a full body MRI  
now, a much more exhaustive test. And frankly, Grey,  
these people don't know what the hell to look for, not like  
we do."

Grey nudged her shoulder with his. " We have him back;  
he's safe. We'll deal with the rest."

She gave him a glare usually reserved for his brother, but  
leaned into his support. "I just hope--"

Shouts and scuffling feet, an eruption of barked orders and  
frantic activity came from across the hall. One voice  
pierced the clamor, terrified and desolate.

"NO! No more! No more!"

"Mulder!" Scully launched herself across the corridor,  
nearly colliding with Dr. Hammond when he appeared in  
the doorway.

"Doctor Scully, we need you in here. NOW."

Grey darted after them as they ran into the room.  
Controlled chaos assaulted his senses. A technician  
furiously punched buttons, shutting down the equipment,  
while two nurses struggled to restrain his thrashing brother,  
who had already managed to tear out his I.V.

Out of his head with fear, Fox twisted and bucked, arms  
flailing and feet kicking as he screamed in protest. "Get  
your fucking hands off me, you sadistic little bastards! I  
won't let you put me back in there. No more! No more!"

"We were in the middle of the test when he woke up."  
Hammond bellowed over the din. "We've tried to talk to  
him, but he's not responding."

Scully shouldered her way past a nurse draped across  
Mulder's body, holding him down. She caught his head  
between her palms, throat constricting at his flushed,  
sweaty face and huge, panic-stricken eyes.

"Mulder, it's Scully. Stop struggling, you need to calm  
down."

To her astonishment, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and  
turned his head away. His hoarse voice shook with emotion  
and tears trickled down the sides of his face. "Don't do this,  
I know it's not real. Let me die this time. Please. Just let me  
die."

White-lipped with shock, Scully could barely choke out  
words of comfort. "Mulder, it's all right. You're safe; no  
one's going to hurt you. They just need to--"

"NO!" Mulder wrenched free of her grasp, fighting with  
renewed fury. "This is not real; *you're* not real! Let me  
go!"

From the corner of her eye, Scully saw Hammond bare  
Mulder's hip for the nurse, hanging on while she injected  
him. Mulder's struggles slowly weakened, his body stilling  
and eyelids fluttering. Fingers fumbled, then latched onto  
Scully's sleeve and she looked into weary, pain-filled eyes.

"Please..." His eyes slid shut and his body sagged, fingers  
falling limply from her arm. 

No one moved. Finally, Hammond turned and conferred in  
hushed tones with the nurse holding the syringe. The other,  
still draped over Mulder's inert form, straightened, patting  
Scully's arm before carefully arranging Mulder into a more  
comfortable position and gathering materials to start a new  
I.V.

"What the hell was that?" Grey had backed into the corner,  
arms wrapped around his body and face ashen.

Scully smoothed her fingertips over Mulder's damp cheek,  
then reluctantly tore her attention from him. She sucked in  
a deep breath. "I'm not sure, but I think it was some kind of  
flashback."

"I've never seen him...Dana, he didn't know who you  
were."

She bit her lip. Mulder's heartbreaking plea still rang in her  
ears. "He recognized me, Grey. He just didn't believe."

"We're going to go ahead with the scan, Dr. Scully, as well  
as the x-rays." Hammond handed Mulder's chart to the  
nurse and joined them. "Given his reaction, I think it's best  
we complete the tests while he's asleep."

"What was your first clue?" Grey muttered it under his  
breath.

Hammond, sensing Grey's distress, just smiled. "The  
Ativan should keep him under for at least an hour, so we'll  
avoid traumatizing him any further."

"Thank you."

Scully watched Mulder's body slide back into the tube, the  
machine whirring to life. The adrenaline rush dissipated,  
leaving her exhausted and overwhelmed by the road ahead.

*What did they do to you, Mulder? And how in God's  
name are we going to make it right?*

 

 

Southside Community Hospital  
Friday  
12:32 PM

 

*She awakens to kisses, soft lips caressing eyelids, cheeks--  
even the sensitive skin behind her right ear. Mind still  
cloudy and sluggish with sleep, her body responds  
instinctively, melting into his touch. His face hovers just  
above hers, a pale moon in the darkness.

"Mmm, Mulder. What time is it?" She stretches her arms  
above her head, deliberately provocative, enjoying the way  
his eyes darken and his hand creeps up the exposed skin of  
her thigh.

"Time to put a beach blanket and all that moonlight to good  
use."

His tongue trails heat down her neck and between her  
breasts, then he twines his fingers with hers and stands.  
He's wearing boxers, she realizes, and has a blanket tucked  
beneath one arm.

"Mulder?" 

Questioning is second nature, but she lets him tug her  
upright. Enfolded in his arms, the feel of his desire kindles  
her own. She opens to him, losing herself in the rough glide  
of tongues, the sweet press of lips.

"I want to make love to you under the stars, to the sound of  
the waves." He murmurs the words against her mouth; she  
feels his smile.

Her body agrees, but she musters a token protest. "Rosa…"

"Is sound asleep." He chuffs into her ear, sending tingles  
down her spine. "Anyway, I think she'd approve." He steps  
away until only their hands remain linked. His thumb  
strokes the back of her hand; the love shining in his eyes  
steals her breath. "Please, Scully."

She's mesmerized by the delicate touch, imagining she can  
feel each whorl on the pad of his thumb.  
Stroking…stroking…*

Scully's eyes flew open. She'd pulled her chair close to  
Mulder's bed and laid her head on the mattress, intending  
to rest only a moment. Her stiff back and dry mouth  
suggested it had been significantly longer.

She straightened with a groan, elusive dream fragments  
still flickering through her thoughts. Remembering that  
beautiful night on the beach, her heart ached with loss. The  
waves' soothing whispers, the brilliance of a million stars,  
the glide of Mulder's skin--

Mulder's fingers twitched, his thumb tickling the back of  
her hand. Scully lunged to her feet, nearly topping the  
chair. She tightened her grip on the restless digits,  
reaching over and cupping his cheek.

"Mulder?"

Her spirits soared when he leaned into the touch. Lashes  
fluttering, his tongue poked out, moistening dry lips.

"Come on, love. Wake up."

Eyelids cracked, he squinted against the harsh fluorescent  
lighting. For a moment his gaze held no recognition, then  
the corners of his mouth curved.

"He…" He swallowed, then tried again. "Hey, Scully."

The ragged, sandpapery rasp, though far from his mellow  
baritone, sang in her ears. Scully blinked furiously, smile  
quivering.

"Hey."

"Thirsty."

She reached for the water pitcher, pouring a small amount  
into the plastic cup. "Go easy, Mulder. Just a couple  
swallows, for now." 

He let her hold the cup, too weak to protest. A line formed  
between his brows. "Hospital?"

She nodded, words blocked by the lump in her throat.

The crease deepened. "Sorry."

Scully smoothed a lock of hair back from his face with a  
watery little chuckle. "Sorry? For what?"

"Must've done something…really stupid."

"You don't remember?"

He shook his head, wincing when the motion caused pain.

Scully ignored the sudden, jittery feeling in her gut.  
"Mulder, what's the last thing you do remember?"

He chewed on his lip for a moment. "We were waiting for  
something…Grey was there…Trees…Forest?" He groaned.  
"Oh, God. Not again." When Scully didn't speak, he  
became very still. "That wasn't the right answer, was it?"

She looked away, searching for the right words. "A lot has  
happened. I'm not sure now is the best time--"

His heartbeat picked up and his fingers clamped painfully  
over hers. "Why not? Scully, what's going on? I deserve to  
know." He pushed himself up on one elbow but could get no  
further.

Scully helped him lay back down, rubbing soothing circles  
on his chest. "Calm down, Mulder, of course you do; I'll  
explain everything. Just--"

"Well, well. Good to see you awake, Agent Mulder."  
Hammond strode into the room, Mulder's chart in his  
hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Like the morning after the night before." Mulder locked  
his gaze with Scully's for a long moment before rolling his  
head toward the doctor.

Hammond chuckled. "Considering your condition when you  
arrived, I guess that'd be just about right."

"Mulder, this is Dr. Hammond. He's been supervising your  
care." Scully jumped in, recognizing Mulder entering  
"interrogator" mode. "Dr. Hammond, Mulder apparently  
has some…gaps in his memory."

"Gaps big enough to drive a bus through. Which Scully was  
about to fill." Mulder's voice faded in and out, succumbing  
to the strain. "What's wrong with me? Why am I here? And  
while you're at it, *where* is here?"

"How about we stop a minute to take inventory? Then I'm  
sure your wife and I can answer your questions."

Mulder muttered something under his breath but submitted  
to Hammond's examination. When the doctor had checked  
his pulse, blood pressure, and pupil response, he tucked the  
chart under his arm and smiled.

"Coming along. You've improved greatly over the last 24  
hours."

Mulder gritted his teeth. "Glad to hear it. Now, who's going  
to catch me up on what I've missed?"

Scully turned to the physician. "Dr. Hammond, if you're  
finished for now, I'd like some time alone with my  
husband."

Hammond inclined his head. "Very well. I'll be back when  
we have the test results. Otherwise, you can page me if you  
need me."

"Thank you." When the door snicked shut, she propped her  
arms on the mattress. "Mulder, do you remember Paige  
Thompson?"

Understanding lit his eyes. "The little girl who was  
abducted! *That's* why we were in the woods." His brow  
furrowed. "We waited a long time, almost gave up. But  
then…we found her, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did. Do you remember what happened after that?"

He scrutinized her face. "She was comatose, like the other  
kids. You…you rode to the hospital with her."

"That's right."

"Grey and I stayed behind. We wanted to go over the scene  
before the local boys showed up."

Scully waited. When he didn't continue, she prodded  
gently. "And then?"

He kneaded his forehead with shaky fingers. "We walked  
back to the campsite. It smelled like ash; the tops of the  
trees had burned. I was checking the magnetic field and  
Grey--" 

He jerked, hand shooting out and grasping the rail.

"Mulder?"

"Oh my God." He panted, short, sharp gulps for air, his  
eyes squeezed shut.

Scully smoothed back his hair. "Talk to me, Mulder."

"There was a spaceship…bright light. I couldn't move.  
Grey--" His eyes snapped open and darted wildly around  
the room. "Scully, where's Grey?"

"Shh, it's okay, Mulder. Grey is fine; he's at the motel  
getting some sleep."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Deep breaths, Mulder. Slow it down."

Mulder's nurse bustled into the room, mouth pursed.  
"What's going on in here, Dr. Scully? Your husband's  
heartrate just went through the roof."

"He got a little upset, Camilla, but everything's fine now--  
right, Mulder?"

Pale as the sheets, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow,  
Mulder flashed his teeth. "Just peachy."

Camilla sniffed. "You need rest, Mr. Mulder. If having a  
visitor is too disturbing…"

"It's okay, really. I'm chillin'." The words came out in a  
barely audible croak. 

Camilla narrowed her eyes but said nothing. When she'd  
marched out, spine stiff, Mulder raised both eyebrows.  
"*Camilla*?"

Though relieved by the spark of his customary humor,  
Scully pressed ahead. Mulder was fading, the emotionally  
charged conversation too great a drain in his fragile  
condition.

"Mulder, what do you remember after the bright light?"

He was silent for a long time before finally shaking his  
head. "Nothing. It's a big blank, Scully." He chewed the  
inside of his lip. "I assume I was… Was I abducted?" When  
she nodded, he sucked in a deep breath. "No wonder you  
look like hell. How long was I missing--forty-eight hours?  
Did you and Grey find me?"

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

She desperately wished she could lie, could spare him from  
what lay ahead. Six years and she could still vividly  
remember the terrifying weight of the black hole in her  
memory.

"Scully?"

"What happened to you was different from what happened  
to the children, Mulder. There's no evidence you were  
subjected to brain surgery, and your brain activity has been  
what we'd expect, given your condition."

He captured the hand stroking his arm, stilling it. "There it  
is again, that word. Why don't you stop beating around the  
bush and tell me? Just what is my *condition*?"

Before she could speak an odd expression crossed his face.  
He released her arm, brought the hand up and stared at his  
palm. "Wait a minute, wait a minute." He swallowed, and  
an edge crept into his voice. "I burned my hand on some  
kind of strange rock. *This* hand." He swallowed again.  
"Scully, how long have I been gone?"

She closed her eyes. "Just over three months."

When his silence became unbearable she cleared her throat.  
"A couple of hikers found you in Bear Creek State Park.  
That's about thirty miles from Holiday Lake. We don't  
think you'd been there more than a couple days--the nights  
are too cold for you to have lasted much longer. I'm still  
waiting for some test results, but so far, other than being  
dehydrated and malnourished--"

"*Three months*?"

She nodded, tears filling her eyes and stinging her throat.

"I… That can't be. There must be some mistake."

Irrationally, her temper flared. "There's no mistake,  
Mulder. At first we were certain you'd be returned in two  
days, just like the children. We assumed the same craft that  
returned Paige had taken you. After a week, we were forced  
to accept that those rules didn't apply. With the Gunmen's  
help we started reviewing satellite transmissions,  
monitoring UFO hotspots and checking with the local  
police, hospitals…" She ran out of steam, shoulders  
slumping. "We never gave up. Not for a minute."

His fingers brushed her jaw, a feather-light touch. Scully  
caught his trembling hand and pressed it to her cheek.

"Sorry." His words slurred in exhaustion. "I believe you. I  
just don't want to."

"It's a lot to take in."

"You said you're waiting for test results."

She kissed his palm and laid his hand back on the mattress.  
"A full body MRI and x-rays."

"Making sure I didn't come back with  
any…modifications?" 

"Something like that. You should sleep, Mulder. We can  
discuss this some more when you've rested."

"I don't need sleep; I need answers." His heavy eyelids and  
thready voice contradicted him.

"Sleep now, answers later. Don't make me call Camilla."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

He settled, muttered protest dying midstream as his eyes  
drifted shut. When his breathing slowed and deepened,  
Scully sank into her chair. She watched him sleep for a  
while, debating whether to duck out on a coffee run as her  
own level of fatigue reached critical mass. She'd just  
decided to risk a quick trip to the nurses' lounge when a  
soft knock drew her attention to the doorway. Dr.  
Hammond beckoned and withdrew.

"Camilla mentioned that your husband became quite  
agitated earlier," he said when Scully had joined him in the  
hallway.

"Discovering you've been missing for three months is a bit  
of a shock."

"I can only imagine. It looks like he's doing better."

"Mulder is amazingly resilient. 

"I've received his x-rays." Hammond tapped the envelope  
in his hand. "We're still waiting on the MRI."

Scully studied his face. "May I see them?"

Hammond nodded and led her around the corner to an  
exam room. He snapped on the lightbox, but paused with a  
film in his hand.

"Dr. Scully, I have to ask you a sensitive question. Was  
your husband abused as a child?"

Scully folded her arms, face blank. "Why would you ask  
that?"

Hammond's lips tightened to a thin line. "Because right  
now I'm at a loss to explain this." He snapped two films in  
place and stepped back. 

Scully pressed her fingers against her mouth, stifling a  
gasp. One film showed Mulder's ribs, the other his upper  
arm. Multiple white lines, indicating healed fractures,  
covered them both.

Hammond handed her the envelope. "They're all like this,  
Dr. Scully. Now, if these aren't childhood injuries--and  
frankly, I don't believe a child could sustain this much  
trauma without permanent damage--then you tell me. What  
the hell is going on?"

 

Southside Community Hospital  
Friday  
4:08 PM

 

He nearly walked right past her.

After four hours of sleep, a turkey sandwich, and a can of  
caffeine-laden soda, Grey had returned to the hospital ready  
to relieve Dana. Holding a white paper bag containing  
another sandwich and a coffee, he'd braced himself for an  
argument. Dana was fiercely protective of Fox on a good  
day. After three months agonizing whether his brother was  
dead or alive, prying her from his side would take some  
smooth talking--or several sticks of dynamite.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, he'd reached Fox's hospital  
room and placed his hand on the door before noticing the  
figure slumped against the wall just outside.

"Dana?"

She lifted her head, revealing bloodshot eyes and blotchy  
cheeks. A boulder settled on Grey's chest.

"Did something happen? Is Fox...?"

"Mulder's fine. He's sleeping."

Grey sucked in his cheeks and set the bag down by his feet.  
"Okay. Then you mind telling me why he's in there and  
you're out here?"

"We got the test results, Grey. The x-rays, the MRI..."

"And?" When she didn't answer, he grasped her shoulders.  
"Dana, what is it?"

"I'm sorry. I just...I'm still coming to terms with this  
myself." She drew in a deep breath and tucked a strand of  
hair behind her ear. "The good news is that Mulder's test  
results show no implants--no foreign bodies of any kind."

"But they do show something, or you wouldn't be this  
upset."

"They indicate past trauma, Grey--massive damage.  
Countless fractures, ruptured organs... I've never seen  
anything like it. Considering the number and severity of  
injuries, Mulder should be dead ten times over."

"I don't understand. *Past* trauma?"

"Completely healed. If I judged strictly by the x-rays, the  
MRI, I'd believe them to be *years* old." She shook her  
head. "I know Mulder's medical records like the back of my  
hand, every bullet wound and scar. I'm telling you, Grey,  
none of these injuries existed three months ago."

Grey licked his lips. "But that's...that's impossible."

Scully barked a harsh little chuckle. "Impossible? We're  
talking about a race of beings that can extract brain tissue  
without opening the skull."

Sweat broke out on the back of his neck, beading his upper  
lip. Grey braced one hand against the wall, pulling air past  
the weight in his chest. "You think they tortured him."

Scully closed her eyes. "Only Mulder can tell us what  
really happened."

"God, Dana. No wonder he freaked during that test. He  
must  
have--"

"He doesn't remember, Grey."

"What?"

Scully pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mulder woke up  
while you were at the motel. He was his normal, glib,  
sarcastic self--with one exception. The past three months  
are a blank."

Grey blinked. "He can't remember any of it?"

She shook her head. "Finding Paige, seeing the spaceship--  
it's all like yesterday for him. Learning the truth gave him  
quite a shock."

"You *told* him?"

"This is Mulder we're talking about, Grey. The man is a  
skilled interrogator, not to mention just plain bullheaded.  
He sensed something was wrong, and I couldn't lie to him."

Grey winced. "How did he take it?"

Scully's lips curved, but her eyes were sad. "The same way  
he's coped with all the other shit life has thrown his way--a  
little humor and a lot of sublimation." She stared at  
Mulder's door as if she could see through it to the man  
inside. "It's not the gap in his memory that worries me."

"It's him filling in the gap." Grey's voice was soft, pained.  
"Maybe he'd be better off if those missing pieces stayed  
missing."

"After seeing those x-rays, I almost agree with you. But it's  
a moot point. We both know how Mulder's mind works--  
eidetic memory, remember? Sooner or later those memories  
are going to surface, and when they do..."

"We'll be there for him." Grey brushed his hand down her  
arm. "He's a survivor, Dana. God knows we've both seen  
him shrug off experiences that would bring a lesser man to  
his knees."

"I'd like to believe that, but, Grey, the test results... I look at  
those films, and I can't begin to understand how Mulder is  
still breathing, let alone reasonably whole and cognizant.  
And Hammond..." She waved a hand, puffing out a short  
breath. "Hammond just keeps trying to make sense of a  
situation for which he has no frame of reference."

Grey ran a hand down his face. "Look, I hate to bring up a  
sore subject, but what about Fox's...abilities?"

"Abilities?"

"The things Spender insinuated back when Fox so sick with  
that alien virus, his bragging about genetic manipulation.  
We've seen evidence that suggests Fox has an unusual  
ability to heal."

Scully was shaking her head before he'd finished speaking.  
"You're not getting it, Grey. They broke nearly every bone  
in his body. There are areas of scar tissue on all of his  
major organs." Her voice cracked. "No amount of genetic  
tweaking could explain this."

"C'mere." Grey folded her into a hug. He rubbed one hand  
between her shoulder blades, feeling fine tremors.

He waited until she'd relaxed, then released her. He placed  
first the food, then the room key into her hands.

"Eat. Sleep." He ticked the commands off on his fingers.  
"You look ready to fall over."

She tried slipping the key back into his jacket pocket.  
"Thanks, but I think I'll stretch out on the couch in the  
lounge, just in case--"

"Uh-uh. We had a deal--remember? It's *my* shift now,  
and I don't want to see you back here for at least six hours.  
I can hold down the fort just fine."

"Grey, I'm capable of resting here. I think it's best I stay.  
What if Mulder has another panic attack? I'm a doctor, I--"

Grey snorted. "No offense, darlin', but you and your  
medical degree weren't much help during that episode,  
were you?"

"That's a shitty thing to say."

"It is. Even if it's true." Grey sighed. "Look, Dana, Fox has  
plenty of doctors and nurses taking care of him. If he does  
freak out again, he won't need another medical  
professional. He'll need family." He shrugged. "For that,  
I'm qualified."

She huffed. "I suppose you have a point." Her eyes  
narrowed. "*Six* hours? Correct me if I'm wrong, but  
you've only been gone four."

Grey grinned, backing toward the door. "Inflation."

He slipped inside. With the blinds shut against the fading  
daylight, shadows cloaked the room. Fox lay on his side,  
one long-fingered hand curled beneath his chin, the  
rhythmic whisper of his breath loud in the silence. When  
his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Grey sat in the empty chair.

It was the first quiet moment he'd experienced since last  
evening when the rollercoaster ride had begun. Grey  
slumped back, shivering as reaction set in, his eyes locked  
on Fox's gaunt face. Three months. He recognized, now,  
how his hope had dwindled. How close he'd come to  
believing his brother lost forever. The realization shamed  
him, tainting the joy he'd felt at Fox's return.

"I'm sorry, Fox."

His brother's even breathing faltered. "Grey?"

Grey winced at the froggy croak, leaning forward to pat his  
brother's arm. "Right here. Didn't mean to wake you."

Fox rolled onto his back. He ran his tongue over his lips,  
eyes blinking at the ceiling. "Timizit?"

"About four-thirty in the afternoon. Why don't you go back  
to sleep?"

Fox turned his head, wrinkling his nose. "Mouth tastes like  
an old sock. Water?"

Grey reached for the pitcher, hesitating when he saw the  
length of plastic I.V. tubing protruding from just below  
Mulder's collarbone. "Uh...hang on a minute." 

He got up and strode out of the room, scanning the hallway  
for a nurse. A sweet young thing set down her clipboard  
and left the nurses' station when he beckoned.

"My brother's asking for water. Is that all right?"

She smiled reassuringly. "Mr. Mulder? Yes, just make sure  
he drinks it slowly, his stomach may be a little on edge. Dr.  
Hammond is coming back to check on him in a bit, and if  
everything looks okay we'll start him on a liquid diet."

"Thanks."

He ducked back inside. "Nurse says it's okay." He poured  
water into a cup and helped Fox sip from the straw,  
dismayed by the weakness in his brother's unsteady hands.

"'S enough." Fox pushed the cup aside after several  
swallows, settling into the pillow with a soft grunt. "This  
sucks. I can barely move. Everything feels like it weighs  
about a thousand pounds. Not to mention I hate hospitals."

"Beats the alternative."

"So I hear." Fox chewed on his lower lip. "I don't exactly  
remember."

"Dana told me. She's at the hotel getting some sleep, by the  
way. She'll be back later." 

"Good. She looked beat." Fox shifted, searching for a more  
comfortable position. "I guess the last three months have  
been pretty hard..." He trailed off into a bitter little chuckle.  
"Three months. I'm saying it and I still can't believe it."

"Yeah, well, it hasn't been easy for us to accept either."  
Grey looked out the window. "Gotta admit, I was beginning  
to think you were never coming back."

"Me? Nah. I'm like a bad penny, I always turn up."

"More like a Timex watch."

"Very funny. So...three months. That must mean--" He  
moaned, a low, distressed sound.

Grey jerked his attention from the window. "What is it?  
What's wrong?"

"I missed the World Series again, didn't I?"

"You little shit! You scared the hell out of me. I thought  
you were having some kind of attack, or in pain, or...or  
something."

"I am in pain, damn it! This is the second time in five years  
I've missed the Series."

Grey snickered, shocked when his vision blurred. He  
blinked furiously, swiping at his eyes with the back of one  
hand.

"Hey." Fox touched his wrist. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking.  
I know this must have been hell for you and Scully."

"It's not that." Grey shook his head, a bemused smile on his  
lips. "I mean, of course it was rough. We spent every spare  
moment trying to find you, and--" He stopped himself. "It's  
just really good to have you back."

"Give it some time, the novelty will wear off." Fox's voice  
turned pensive. "I wish I could say it's good to be back. But  
for me, it's as if I never left." His eyes bore into Grey's with  
relentless intensity. "I have to fill in the blank, Grey. I have  
to know what happened to me."

*They broke nearly every bone in his body.*

"Give it some time, Fox. You've been back all of--what?  
Forty-eight hours?"

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one with a black hole  
in your memory." Fox punctuated the complaint with a  
yawn, eyelids drooping.

"Hey, I've been there. Remember when your buddy  
Cancerman thought he could treat my brain like a magic  
slate and just erase the stuff he didn't want me taking  
home? It might not have been three months' worth, but it  
was no picnic."

"Point taken. But can't you see how frustrating this is? For  
years I've searched for conclusive proof of extraterrestrial  
life, battled against a conspiracy to conceal it." Fox yawned  
again. "I've interviewed victims of alien abduction, listened  
to hundreds of accounts. Now here I am, one of my own x-  
files with first hand experience, and I can't remember a  
damn thing."

Despite the burden of knowledge he carried, one corner of  
Grey's mouth turned up. "I believe that's called irony, little  
brother. Now how about you catch up on some more  
sleep?"

Fox's eyes, which had been drifting closed, snapped open  
and his body stiffened. "Are you leaving?"

Puzzled by the wary tone and obvious tension, Grey shook  
his head. "Nope. I'm on duty until Dana gets back. 'Fraid  
you're stuck with at least one of us for the time being." He  
leaned back in the chair and propped his feet on the  
mattress, nudging his brother's leg.

Fox rolled his eyes. "That's my Scully--never trust the  
medical staff." But his body relaxed, his eyelids  
immediately sliding shut. Within seconds he was out for the  
count.

Grey watched him sleep, uneasiness niggling at the back of  
his mind. For just an instant, when he'd thought Grey might  
be leaving, Fox had looked...afraid. 

Grey didn't want to think about what that might mean.

 

Southside Community Hospital  
Sunday  
5:37 PM

"I want it on the record, Mr. Mulder, that I'd feel much  
better if you remained here one more night. You're still  
extremely weak, and--"

"And I'm deeply touched by your concern, Doctor. Really.  
But I'll have my personal physician with me at all times,  
and she's acquainted with my condition. Intimately."

Scully pursed her lips, smirking inwardly at Mulder's  
guileless expression, while Grey simply turned his back,  
shoulders hunched. 

Hammond eyeballed Mulder for a long moment before  
scribbling his signature onto the discharge papers with a  
shake of his head. He tucked the chart under his arm and  
turned his attention to Scully.

"Perhaps we can have a word outside while Detective  
McKenzie helps your husband dress."

Mulder clenched his jaw, shoving off the blankets and  
swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I've never  
considered dressing a group effort. Now *undressing*,  
that's another matter."

"Mulder, wait. I don't think--" 

He'd pushed off the mattress before she finished speaking,  
stubborn triumph melting to disbelief when his stick-thin  
legs simply folded. Scully lunged, grabbing for his arm, but  
Grey got there first. He caught his brother around the waist  
and dragged him upright, easing him back onto the bed.

"Easy, Fox. Those legs are a little rusty."

Hammond cleared his throat. "As I was saying..."

Scully took one look at Mulder's flushed face and rigid  
spine before grasping Hammond's elbow and steering him  
into the hallway. "You said you had something to discuss  
with me, Doctor?"

Hammond waited until they'd moved away from the open  
door before speaking. "Dr. Scully, I just want to stress how  
important it is that your husband continues to receive  
treatment. He's made incredible progress over the last 72  
hours, but I'm afraid complete recovery will take plenty of  
time and patience--on both your parts."

"Of course." Scully tipped up her chin. "I'll make an  
appointment first thing tomorrow morning. I've already had  
his records from the last few days sent to his physician."

"Good." Hammond hesitated, his soft drawl becoming  
more pronounced as his voice gentled. "It will be tempting  
to focus on his physical health. But you and I both know  
his problems run much deeper than the perplexing  
reduction in his lymphocyte population or a dropped twenty  
pounds. 

"Though I can't begin to explain the blood test results, the  
x-rays, the MRI, I also can't deny what they reveal--trauma  
of an incomprehensible nature. *Something* terrible  
happened to your husband, Dr. Scully. Something his  
subconscious is doing its damnedest to bury. He'll need  
help--professional help--to cope with his experience."

Irritation welled up inside her, tightening her chest and  
pounding behind her eyes. "I don't need a lecture on my  
responsibilities, Dr. Hammond. I'm a physician and a  
professional law enforcement officer, and I know my  
husband better than anyone."

"I know. I never meant to suggest otherwise."

Shamed by his patient response, Scully's temper cooled.  
"I'm sorry. I do appreciate your concern, believe me. I'm  
aware that my husband has a long road to recovery--longer  
than even you can imagine. I'll do everything possible to  
ensure he gets whatever help he needs."

Hammond scrutinized her face. "You know where he's been  
the last three months, don't you? Or at the very least, who  
took him. The high white cell count, the presence of  
glucocorticoids--even the anomaly of those recently-healed  
injuries. You displayed shock, yes, but never disbelief.  
Almost as if..." His eyes narrowed. "As if you'd seen it, or  
something like it, before."

"Dr. Hammond, I'm really not at liberty to discuss--"

Grey stepped into the hallway and cocked a thumb over his  
shoulder. "There's one seriously pissy FBI agent in there  
who's anxious to leave this fine establishment. Where the  
hell is the nurse with the wheelchair?"

For a moment Scully though Hammond would persist, but  
he relaxed with a mild chuckle. "Wouldn't want it said I  
obstructed justice. I'll track down Camilla."

Scully followed Grey back into the room, finding Mulder  
perched on the bed, fiddling with an emesis basin. Her  
heart lurched and she had to blink back the prickle of tears.  
At the last moment, as she and Grey prepared to leave her  
apartment, she'd snatched a few items of Mulder's clothing.  
A talisman against failure and a pledge of faith that this  
time she'd bring him home. The faded blue jeans and soft,  
gray sweatshirt leant him a heartbreaking air of normality  
despite his sunken cheeks and shadowed eyes.

He scowled as he searched the doorway behind her. "Please  
tell me Nurse Godzilla is on her way."

She tried for a look of disapproval but it slid off her face.  
"*Camilla*, Mulder. Dr. Hammond went to find her. Be  
nice--she's the one driving you to the front entrance."

"Seems appropriate. She's been driving me up the wall for  
days." He tossed the basin onto the tray table and began  
plucking at his shirt.

Eyebrows raised, Grey waved a hand in his brother's  
direction. *See?*

"I know she's a little...abrasive, but her heart's in the right  
place." When Mulder graduated from plucking to  
scratching Scully grabbed his fingers. "Stop that."

"It itches."

She hooked a finger in the neck of his shirt, pulling it aside  
to check the bandage covering the wound left by the central  
line. "Itching means healing. That's good."

"Scratching means relief. That's good too." But he dropped  
his hand to his lap.

"All right, Mr. Mulder." Camilla breezed into the room  
with a wheelchair and her customary no-nonsense scowl.  
She wagged a finger at him. "Stay put until I can help you--  
"

"No problem, ma'am, I've got it covered." Grey gave her a  
soul-melting grin, taking Mulder's elbow and steadying him  
as he plopped into the chair.

"Why, thank you, Mr. McKenzie! The help is much  
appreciated." Camilla dimpled, blushing to the roots of her  
silver hair.

Mulder rolled his eyes but said nothing.

As they rolled out the door, Camilla tossed over her  
shoulder, "Don't forget Mr. Mulder's personal effects, Dr.  
Scully. Top drawer of the bedside table."

"But he didn't..." Scully shrugged when Camilla kept  
walking. Waving Grey onward, she stepped back into the  
room. 

She crossed to the table and tugged open the drawer,  
sweeping her eyes perfunctorily over the interior. At first  
glance it appeared empty, and she'd begun sliding the  
drawer shut when a small baggie caught her eye. She lifted  
it, staring at the dark, glassy rock inside.

How could she have forgotten? Slowly, Scully opened the  
bag and grasped the smooth surface, flinching at the odd  
sensation of warmth. Holding it up to the light revealed  
nothing--if the object contained some kind of power source,  
the opaque surface effectively concealed it.

Grey's head appeared around the corner. "You coming?"

She startled, nearly dropping the rock. Sliding it into the  
bag and then her pocket, she turned with a brittle smile.  
"Let's go."

Mulder and Camilla were parked at the elevators, wearing  
identical sour expressions when Grey jogged up and  
punched the button.

"Everything okay?" Mulder studied her face, his voice  
warm with concern.

She snagged his hand from the arm of the chair, weaving  
their fingers together. "Everything is good, Mulder."

A high-pitched ding and the elevator doors rumbled open.  
Two nurses and a young couple got off, leaving the car  
empty. Camilla took two strides forward before Mulder  
clamped both hands onto the wheels, stopping the chair.

Camilla let out a displeased huff. "Mr. Mulder, please let  
go. I can't push when you do that." 

Grey thrust out a blocking arm as the doors began closing.  
They popped back open, chiming a soft protest. Camilla  
gave the chair another shove, but Mulder clamped down  
harder, knuckles white.

"Mr. Mulder." Camilla clipped out the name like a curse,  
sending Scully a longsuffering glare.

Scully stood in front of him, perplexed. Mulder was staring  
into the elevator car, teeth tormenting his lower lip.

"Mulder?"

"Just...just wait a minute." His eyes cut to the left, locking  
onto the red exit sign. "We're only four floors up. How  
'bout we take the stairs?"

"Nonsense." Camilla gave the chair a jiggle. "Mr. Mulder, I  
need you to remove your hands from the wheels so we can  
get into the elevator. You're wasting my time; I have other  
patients to attend to."

"Mulder, you know you're in no condition to navigate  
stairs." Scully kept her tone gentle as she reclaimed his  
hand. "Come on."

She stayed close as Camilla trundled the chair into the  
elevator and Grey punched the button. 

The instant the doors began moving Mulder tensed,  
crushing her fingers. "Open the door!"

Scully gasped, half in shock, half in pain, while Grey  
simply gaped at his brother's wild eyes and high, panic-  
stricken voice.

"Open the door, open it!" Mulder lurched forward,  
dropping Scully's hand and straining for the control panel.  
"Have to get out. Now!"

"Mulder, it's all right. We'll be down in a minute," Scully  
soothed, pressing gently against his chest as the elevator  
began its decent.

Grey laid a hand on his brother's outstretched arm, guiding  
downward. "Easy, Fox."

Mulder's breathing escalated to quick pants, a sheen of  
sweat breaking out on his face. His eyes darted around the  
car's interior and his body thrummed like an overstretched  
rubberband. "No, no, no. Can't...can't breathe, gotta..."

"You're fine, Mr. Mulder. Sit down." Camilla firmly  
gripped his shoulders, pulling him toward the back of the  
chair.

At the touch of her hands, Mulder's whole body jerked.  
"NO!"

He wrenched free from her grasp, knocking aside their  
restraining hands while struggling to scramble out of the  
chair. "No, don't! I don't want it.  
Letmeoutletmeoutletmeout!"

Scully caught his face between her palms but could not  
make contact with his blank, terrified eyes. "Mulder!  
Mulder, calm down, it's--shit!" His flailing hand smacked  
her in the face and sent her stumbling backward, head  
thudding against the wall.

She cradled her throbbing cheek, blinking back tears.  
Mulder had dragged himself out of the chair, fingers  
scrabbling at the crack between the doors, and Camilla was  
reaching for the emergency call button as the floor  
indicator light skipped from 3 to 2. Taking advantage of his  
brother's distraction, Grey lunged from behind, wrapping  
both arms around Mulder's chest. The wheelchair tipped  
over as they both tumbled to the floor.

"Don't...d...don't. Have to get out."

"Shhh, easy, Fox. You're safe." Grey rested his chin on his  
brother's shoulder and murmured the words into his ear. 

Mulder stopped fighting, his frantic gasps harsh in the  
abrupt quiet. "Grey?"

"I'm here. Everything's gonna be all right. Just breathe." He  
looked up at Scully. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Scully pushed past the flustered Camilla and  
knelt beside them, pressing her fingers to Mulder's wrist,  
then brushing the hair from his eyes and checking his  
pupils.

A faint bump and the elevator doors opened. Grey gazed up  
at the curious faces of an elderly man and two young  
women. He flashed them a grin as he and Scully hauled  
Mulder upright and out of the car while Camilla picked up  
the wheelchair. "Hang onto your hats, folks. That ride gets  
a bit bumpy."

Scully pursed her lips but merely took the wheelchair from  
Camilla, holding it steady while Grey lowered his brother.  
Mulder slumped into the seat, chin tucked to his chest. His  
respiration had already slowed dramatically.

The nurse cleared her throat. "I'll get Dr. Hammond."

"No." Mulder lifted his head. Occasional tremors still  
shook his thin frame, but his eyes were clear and lucid. "No  
doctor."

Camilla's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Mulder, I have never, in all  
my years--"

Scully held up a hand. "Thank you anyway, Camilla, but  
that's not necessary. Didn't you say you had other patients?  
We can handle things from here."

Camilla gritted her teeth. "Yes. I certainly do." She pasted  
on a tight little smile as she turned away. "Best of luck to  
all of you." The unspoken implication was clear: *You're  
going to need it.*

Scully crouched down, one hand on Mulder's knee, the  
other stroking up and down his arm. "Talk to me, Mulder.  
What just happened?"

He blinked and shook his head. "I don't know."

"Mulder."

"I don't know!" When she flinched he sighed. "I don't  
understand it myself, Scully. I just...I had this  
overwhelming sensation that I was trapped. Like the walls  
were closing in on me and I couldn't get enough oxygen.  
I'm sorry I hared out on you like that, but I'm okay now.  
Can we please just get out of here?"

She thought about the eerily similar incident during the  
MRI but decided not to push. Mulder's eyes, dark with  
exhaustion, and the aftershocks still shivering through his  
limbs convinced her the subject was best left for another  
day.

She smiled and cocked her head toward Grey. "Sounds  
good to me. What do you think?"

"I think we'd better blow this joint before Nurse Godzilla  
comes back with reinforcements." He shook his head with  
mock amazement. "You sure know how to win friends and  
influence people, don'tcha, Fox?"

Scully chuffed, grateful for Grey's wry humor. "Just  
worked that out, did you?"

"It's a gift." Though still trembling, Mulder licked dry lips  
and managed a weak smile. "Let's go home."

 

Outside Richmond, VA  
Sunday  
8:12 PM

 

Grey squinted against the oncoming headlights, digging  
fingers into the tight muscles at the base of his neck. He  
tipped his head left, then right, and rolled both shoulders,  
sighing when his spine shifted and popped.

"Still having back trouble?"

He glanced over at Scully, a wry smile twisting his lips.  
"Tends to flare up when I'm tense. And I haven't exactly  
been keeping my chiropractor appointments these last few  
weeks."

"Sorry."

"What the heck for?"

She lifted one shoulder, amusement coloring her voice. "I  
feel partly responsible. After all, you injured it pulling Bill  
to safety--despite the fact he'd just behaved like an ass."

"Darlin', don't take this the wrong way, but your brother's  
been an ass ever since I met him. I'm afraid it's a permanent  
condition."

"You've got a point."

"How has your family reacted to Fox's disappearance?"

"Mom's...bewildered. Kidnapping she could understand,  
but alien abduction?"

"Kinda hard to swallow." Grey laughed quietly. "Yeah, I  
can relate."

"Charlie, on the other hand, has been a rock. He's called me  
a couple times a week, keeping tabs on me, on the search.  
The whole alien component doesn't seem to faze him--but  
then, it never did."  
She smiled. "Charlie's always been the believer in the  
family. He was the last to give up on Santa Claus and the  
first to become convinced a ghost haunted our neighbor's  
shed. During his telekinesis phase, he lost at least a half  
dozen spoons trying to bend them with his mind. Drove my  
mother nuts."

"And Billy Boy?" Grey prodded when she fell silent.

"Bill is Bill."

"Huh. Like I said, it's a permanent condition."

"Let's just say Bill has had his own...theories regarding  
Mulder's whereabouts. None of them flattering to Mulder's  
character."

"For instance?"

"You don't want to hear this, Grey."

"Sure I do."

"No, you--"

"Dana, what the hell did he say?"

Scully bit her lip, staring out the window. "In his kinder  
moments he suggested that Mulder had been kidnapped by  
one of the many 'nutcases' we've encountered during the  
course of our work."

"That's the *kind* version?"

Scully chuckled through gritted teeth. "His less charitable  
theory had Mulder...snapping under pressure. Experiencing  
a complete mental breakdown, losing it, and wandering off  
to parts unknown."

"Son of a bitch."

"That term was mentioned, yes."

Grey flexed his fingers, curling them more tightly around  
the steering wheel. "Speaking of losing it... What exactly  
happened in that elevator, Dana? Some sort of panic  
attack?"

Scully leaned over and peered into the back of the SUV.  
Mulder sprawled across the seat, one leg bent at the knee,  
the other trailing onto the floor. Lips parted, his chest rose  
and fell with the deep, slow breaths of heavy sleep.

She turned back to Grey, voice hushed. "More like a  
flashback. His reaction in that elevator was uncomfortably  
similar to his behavior during the MRI. In both instances,  
confinement in a small space triggered not only extreme  
anxiety but what I believe could be a memory."

Grey winced. "That's a helluva memory."

"Just the tip of the iceberg, I'm afraid. We knew it wasn't  
going to be easy, Grey. Mulder will need help dealing with  
the past three months, but he'll fight it. Things could get  
ugly."

"We'll double team him, darlin'. He won't know what hit  
him."

She blinked stinging eyes. "I just assumed... You've been  
on leave of absence more than four weeks."

"You expected I'd drop you two at the curb and make  
tracks, huh?"

"Well, when you put it that way..."

He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "I'll be here as  
long as you and Fox need me."

The knot in her chest loosened. "Thank you."

"Have you talked to Walt recently?"

"Earlier this afternoon, once I knew Mulder would be  
released. He made it very clear that the Bureau will cover  
Mulder's bills, since he essentially incurred his...injuries on  
the job. Which reminds me..."

She pulled the bag from her pocket. "Recognize this?"

Grey's eyes widened. "That's it. That's the rock Fox picked  
up just before we saw the spaceship. The one that burned  
his hand."

"And the object he was clutching when they found him. I  
touched it earlier, in his room, and it was uncomfortably  
warm. Yet now it's cool."

Grey shrugged. "It must hold some significance, but I'll be  
damned if I know what."

She tucked it away with a sigh. "I'll have the boys take a  
look. Maybe they can come up with something, or at least--  
"

Soft rustling of cloth and restless limbs caught her  
attention. In the back seat Mulder had curled into a fetal  
position, knees drawn to his chest and arms hugged tightly  
to his body. His face contorted, eyes squeezed shut in a  
pained grimace.

"Don't...please." Words moaned in a breathy whisper,  
barely audible over the engine's hum.

Scully took off her seatbelt and leaned between the seats.  
"Shh. It's okay, Mulder. You're dreaming."

He folded into a tighter ball, arms now wrapped around his  
head. "Stop...hurts. Scully...no."

Scully reached out and grasped his wrist, tugging the arm  
from his face. "Mulder, it's all right. You're safe--"

Her soothing murmur cut off with a sharp cry as Mulder  
opened his eyes wide and clamped his hands around her  
throat. Snarling, he squeezed, dragging her into the back  
seat. "No! I won't let you."

Scully clawed at his fingers, gasping for air. She kicked  
frantically, pummeling Grey and momentarily dislodging  
his grip on the steering wheel. The car swerved, veering  
onto the wrong side of the road and into the path of an  
oncoming van.

"Shit!" Grey seized the wheel and jerked hard to the right,  
cutting across their own lane and onto the shoulder. He  
stomped on the brake and the car skidded to a stop.

Scully saw spots dance across her vision. Digging her  
fingernails into Mulder's arm, she thrashed, unable to choke  
out a protest. Mulder growled, shaking her until she went  
limp. "Leave me alone!" 

A click, the rush of cold air, and she dropped to the floor.  
Harsh, raspy coughs tore through her chest, watering her  
eyes as she gulped air. She heard Grey shouting, but his  
voice sounded as if it came from the end of a long tunnel.  
Still draped painfully between the seats, she crawled the  
rest of the way into the back and sat up.

Grey held Mulder in a headlock, speaking soothing words  
into his ear. As she watched, her fingers pressed  
protectively over her throat, Mulder stopped struggling.  
Slowly, the anger and fear faded from his eyes. His  
forehead wrinkled and his lips parted as he gaped at  
Scully's ashen face. Grey cautiously released him.

"Scully?" Mulder reached for her, snatching back his hand  
when she flinched. "Scully, what happened? I--"

A truck whizzed past, flooding the car with light. Mulder  
recoiled, his breath stuttering, then speeding up. "What...  
I...I did this?" Once again, he stretched a hand toward her. 

This time, Scully remained still as he gently traced her  
throat with trembling fingers. "You remember?" She spoke  
with difficulty as the words grated past irritated tissue.

Mulder shivered. "No. No! I would never... I mean, yes, I  
remember but...but not this, not you." He pressed his  
forehead to his knees and rocked.

Scully scooted onto the seat. She stroked her fingers  
through his hair while Grey, his forehead scrunched and  
spine stiff, rubbed circles on his back. "Tell me, Mulder,"  
she rasped. "Tell me what you remember."

He shook his head violently. "Doesn't make sense."

"Tell me anyway."

He was silent a long time before speaking. "Pain. Worse  
than anything I've ever felt. Like being ripped apart from  
the inside out." His muffled voice cracked and broke.

She continued the gentle motion of her hand, forcing breath  
past the weight in her chest. "What else?"

"Fighting. Light pinning me down. Voices telling me not to  
resist. To submit." He lifted his head, teeth chattering from  
the tremors running through his body. He scanned her face  
as if looking for the answer to his confusion. "*Your*  
voice. It was you, Scully...but it wasn't. I...it makes no  
sense." He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes.  
"Head hurts."

Scully shrugged off the horror his words invoked. "I can  
help with that. Grey, could you get my purse and a bottle of  
water?"

She gave Mulder two pills, steadying his hand as he  
swallowed them without question. Grey helped them settle  
into the back seat, reclaimed his spot behind the wheel, and  
resumed driving.

Mulder touched her neck. "I'm so sorry, babe. I didn't  
mean...you know I would never..."

"Of course you wouldn't."

He turned away with a bitter laugh. "You must be asking  
yourself why you kept looking."

"That's not funny, Mulder."

"It wasn't meant to be a joke."

She cradled his face between her palms. "I looked because I  
need you, Mulder, like I need my next breath. Because you  
are my center; you touch every part of me." She brushed  
her thumbs across his cheeks, the smile quivering on her  
lips. "Because you make me a whole person, and I can't do  
this without you. That's why I kept looking, why I would  
have continued looking no matter how long it took."

"Scully." He whispered her name, blinking back tears. 

More than three months. Scully leaned over and touched  
her mouth to his in a long, sweet kiss. Eventually, she  
pulled away, and resting her forehead against his,  
murmured, "Welcome home."

He turned his face into the curve of her neck.

Scully pulled the pillow into her lap and patted it. "Rest,  
Mulder. It's still another hour to DC."

He tensed, spine straightening and face expressionless.  
"That's okay. I'm not tired." Blinking bloodshot eyes, he  
smothered a yawn with the back of his hand.

"Do it for me, then. It's been a rough trip and you're still  
very weak."

"Scully."

"Mulder." She smoothed the hair back from his brow. "It's  
all right. I promise I won't let you dream."

Too tired to argue further, he let her guide him down,  
curling up with his head in her lap. Body stiff and eyes  
wide open, he fought exhaustion until the monotonous  
drone of tires on pavement and the seductive warmth of her  
body lulled him to sleep.

Scully dropped her head onto the seatback. Her throat  
throbbed and she felt bruised inside.

"You hangin' in there?"

She'd almost forgotten Grey's presence. His eyes in the rear  
view mirror reflected affection and concern. "I'm fine."

"Uh-huh. And if I believe that one I'll bet you've got some  
swampland in Florida for me."

"It's not as if I didn't expect this, Grey. I warned you things  
would get rough."

Grey snorted. "This was way beyond rough, darlin', and  
you for damn sure know it. You can't tell me you expected  
your husband would assault you. So drop the 'I'm fine'--  
nobody here is buyin' it."

Scully brushed the moisture from her eyes, smiling weakly.  
"Okay, maybe fine is an exaggeration."

"Now we're getting somewhere."

"What do you want me to say, Grey? Yes, the fact that  
Mulder tried to strangle me is only slightly less horrifying  
than the fact he identifies me with the torture inflicted upon  
him." Mulder flinched, brow furrowing. She rubbed his arm  
until he settled, then continued in a more subdued tone.  
"I'm fine because I have to be fine. Because Mulder needs  
me to be fine."

Grey blew out a gusty breath. "Just help me understand,  
Dana. Why would Fox associate you with pain when we all  
know you'd never hurt him?"

She felt ill, her stomach twisted in knots. "One race of  
aliens we've run across can change their physical  
appearance at will. They've proved to be excellent mimics.  
I was completely taken in by one that looked just like  
Mulder."

Grey turned toward her, his face blank with shock. A horn  
blared, and he jumped, dragging his gaze back to the road.  
Clearing his throat could not mask the unsteadiness in his  
voice. "Are you saying..."

"They used me against him, Grey. The one person he trusts  
more than any other. To confuse him, control him--perhaps  
simply to torment him. His mind may tell him it wasn't real,  
wasn't me, but his body remembers. Mulder remembers." 

She touched Mulder's hair, his cheek, shivering despite the  
warmth seeping from his body to hers. 

"I hope to God he can forget."


	2. Chapter 2

Georgetown  
Sunday  
9:26 PM

 

Grey pulled the car smoothly to the curb and turned off the  
engine. "Home, sweet home." He peered between the seats.  
"Is it just me or did that four-hour trip feel more like  
twenty-four?"

Scully shifted her legs, grimacing at the pins and needles  
sensation in her feet. "Definitely not just you." She looked  
down at Mulder's slack, peaceful face. "Let's get him  
upstairs. Then, hopefully, we can all get some sleep."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

As Grey got out of the car, Scully brushed the backs of her  
fingers down Mulder's cheek. "We're home, Mulder. Time  
to wake up."

He didn't twitch, not even when Grey tugged the door open  
and let in a gust of cold air.

Scully shook his shoulder, raising her voice. "Come on,  
Mulder. Wake up."

He cracked open one eye and regarded her blearily for a  
moment before it slid shut. Levering him upright, Scully  
tapped his cheek. "Thought you didn't want to wrestle--  
remember?"

He squinted at her, brow furrowed. "Huh?"

"Never mind. Let Grey help you out of the car. We're  
home."

"'M fine. Don't need help." He waved Grey aside and  
crawled out of the open door, nearly tumbling onto the  
pavement.

Grey grasped his brother around the waist, hooking  
Mulder's right arm around his neck. "Humor me, little  
brother."

"'Kay."

His brief flash of independence extinguished, Mulder  
sagged against Grey, chin dipping toward his chest and  
eyes at half-mast. Scully wormed her way under his limp  
left arm, adding her support, and together she and Grey  
steered him toward the front door of the apartment  
building. 

Grey frowned at her over his brother's bent head. "He's  
asleep on his feet. What the hell was in those pills you gave  
him?" he hissed.

"Diazepam." At Grey's blank look, she clarified, "Valium.  
Dr. Hammond gave it to me along with the vitamins and  
antibiotic. Considering the likelihood of post-traumatic  
stress, he was afraid Mulder might experience more  
outbursts like the one during the MRI."

"Looks like he was right on the money."

"I didn't want to risk another flashback at seventy miles an  
hour."

"I, uh, see your point."

Scully fumbled for the door handle, barely maintaining her  
grasp on six feet of loopy Mulder. Rapid footsteps  
approached just as her fingers slipped and Mulder slid  
toward the ground. Peripherally, she saw a strong hand grip  
Mulder's arm above the elbow and haul him upright.

"Agent Scully, Grey. Seems like you could use a little  
help."

She looked up into Skinner's warm brown eyes. "Sir?"

"Well hey, Walt. You're a sight for sore eyes," Grey  
drawled as Skinner stepped in and snugged Mulder's arm  
more firmly around his shoulders.

Mulder stiffened. Blinking, he studied Skinner's face for a  
long moment before his wobbly head dropped onto Grey's  
shoulder and his eyelids fluttered shut. "Babe, I dunno what  
was in that pill you gave me, but all of a sudden you look  
exactly like Skinner. 'S scaring the hell outta me." 

Skinner rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you, too, Agent  
Mulder."

Grey laughed silently. "Don't worry about it, Fox. Just relax  
and let us do the driving."

Scully held the door open and they manhandled Mulder  
into the foyer. She darted around them and pressed the  
elevator button.

Grey pulled up short. "Uh, Dana? You sure that's such a  
good idea? Maybe the stairs..."

Skinner frowned, adjusting his grip when Mulder nearly  
slithered out of his grasp. "Stairs?" He drew out the word.

"It'll be fine, Grey." She tipped her head toward Mulder and  
arched an eyebrow.

Grey took a good look at his brother. Fox's slitted eyes  
revealed only a hint of hazel, his body boneless. Odds were  
good that a trip in the elevator would fly right under his  
radar.

Scully stepped to the back, making room for Grey, Mulder,  
and Skinner. They shuffled inside, and Grey patted his  
brother's waist as the doors rumbled shut. "Hang in there,  
Fox. A few more minutes and we can all take a load off."

"Oh, Grey. I forgot about your back." Scully saw that  
despite Skinner's best efforts, Grey bore the brunt of  
Mulder's weight.

"I'm all right." Grey was silent a moment before continuing  
in a voice low and tight with anger. "He must be a good  
twenty pounds lighter than normal. Hell, I could practically  
carry him."

Scully bit back a reply. She and Dr. Hammond estimated  
that Mulder had dropped closer to thirty pounds.

The brief elevator ride passed without incident. Feeling as  
if she were nearing the end of a long race, Scully let them  
into the apartment and led the way to the bedroom, flicking  
on lights as she went.

"I can take it from here," she said, folding back the  
bedspread and motioning for Skinner and Grey to sit their  
charge on the mattress.

The change of position jolted Mulder awake. He panicked,  
flinching from the supporting hands with a low cry.

"Easy, Mulder." Skinner backed off a step, palms raised.  
"Everything's okay."

"We're home, Mulder." Scully moved around the men and  
into Mulder's line of sight. "Grey and Skinner just helped  
get you in from the car."

Mulder ran both hands over his face as if to scrub away his  
confusion. "Uh...no offense, sir, but when did you join the  
party?"

"I'm not joining, Mulder, just passing through. Don't mind  
me; you go ahead and get some rest." Skinner paused in the  
doorway, eyes crinkled with the suggestion of a smile.  
"And Mulder? If this your idea of a party, you need to get  
out more."

Grey squeezed his brother's shoulder. "Good night, Fox."

Scully ushered them out of the bedroom and shut the door.  
When she turned around, Mulder was nodding off, his chin  
dipping to his chest. 

"Stay with me, Mulder. You can't sleep like that."

She stripped off his sweatshirt, guiding rubbery arms  
through the sleeves and tugging it over his head. Mulder,  
hair sticking up at all angles, managed only a pitiful  
imitation of a lecherous leer.

"Scully, please. Grey and Skinner are right in the next room  
and we both know how noisy you get."

She snorted indelicately, tipping him onto his back and  
setting to work on his jeans. "Me? Two words, Mulder.  
Mrs. Wendling."

"Low blow, babe."

"I told you to close the window."

"The woman is older than God and has hearing aids in both  
ears. I thought she'd be sound asleep. Besides, it was none  
of her business."

"It was middle of the night. You were moaning "Right  
there, right there" and "Harder, harder" loud enough to  
wake the dead." Scully popped open the last button and  
skimmed the jeans down his legs.

"At least I faced her with a plausible explanation. You, as I  
recall, hid in the bedroom."

"You told her we were hanging pictures, Mulder. At 2:30  
a.m. I'd hardly call that plausible."

"It got her to leave, didn't it?" Mulder chuckled throatily,  
then yawned. "Mrs. Wendling is a shameless busybody  
with too much time on her hands. That was probably the  
highlight of her week."

Scully drew the covers up to his chest. Smoothing his hair  
back, she kissed his forehead. "Sleep."

He caught hold of her wrist as she straightened. "Leaving  
me? When I'm finally in a bed big enough for two?" The  
light, teasing lilt to his voice didn't match the tense set of  
his mouth and the painful pressure of his fingers.

She perched on the edge of the mattress. "I need to find out  
why Skinner's here. I doubt it's a social call."

He levered himself up on his elbows and pushed back the  
blanket. "I'll come with you."

"Mulder." She pressed her palm to his chest. "You can  
barely keep your eyes open. You were sleepwalking the  
whole way in from the car. Rest. I'll join you soon, I  
promise."

Mulder flopped back onto the pillows. Scully tucked the  
blanket back up around his shoulders and stood. Folding  
her arms, she studied his face. Mulder evaded her gaze, his  
teeth tormenting his lower lip and his body rigid.

"Talk to me, Mulder. What's going on?"

"Nothing." When she raised an eyebrow, he ground out  
through gritted teeth, "Nothing I can explain, or even  
understand." He made a weak shooing motion. "Go on. I'm  
fine."

Though she could see he was anything but, Mulder's  
strained smile pleaded that she not press the issue. She  
nodded and turned toward the door.

"Scully?" Mulder's sharp call froze her fingers on the light  
switch. His smile faded, leaving eyes that looked too large  
in his thin face. He glanced away, mumbling something too  
softly for her to hear.

"What?"

"I said leave it on!" He flushed and lowered his voice.  
"Please."

Troubled, she left the lamp on and the door open. In the  
living room, Skinner and Grey were conversing quietly.  
She gestured for them to remain seated and dropped onto  
the couch beside Grey. Some of her discomfort must have  
shown on her face, because he broke off mid-sentence, a  
small line forming between his brows.

"Everything all right?"

"Everything is fine." She turned expectantly to Skinner.

"Scully, I know you're all tired, so I'll keep this brief. I  
thought you'd be interested to know that I had a forensics  
team from the Richmond office go over the area where  
those hikers stumbled onto Mulder."

"And?"

"That part of the state had experienced heavy rainfall  
several days earlier. The ground was still saturated."

"In other words, in prime condition to retain evidence,"  
Grey interjected.

"Exactly. They found two distinct sets of footprints that  
matched the hikers' boots, and the imprint from Mulder's  
body. Unfortunately, the EMTs and their equipment tore up  
most of the ground immediately surrounding it."

"But they did find something more." 

Skinner nodded. "They were able to backtrack Mulder's  
trail to a small clearing three miles from where he was  
found."

"*Three miles?*" Grey choked out the words. "He could  
barely lift his arm. How in God's name did he make it three  
miles?"

"What did they find in the clearing?" Scully asked.

Skinner clenched his jaw. "You can probably guess what  
they found. Nothing. There was an indentation at the end of  
the trail, the size and shape indicating a body had impacted  
the ground, probably falling a distance of ten to twelve feet.  
No tire tracks, ruts, shoe prints--nothing to explain how  
someone apparently dropped Mulder into the middle of a  
field without leaving a scrap of evidence."

Grey blew out a long breath. "Bet that went over well."

One corner of Skinner's mouth twitched. "The agent in  
charge expressed...frustration."

"This only confirms what we already know," Scully said,  
her voice raspy. "Gratifying, perhaps, but essentially  
useless. We know who took Mulder. What we don't know  
is why."

"And for that, I'm afraid I have no answer." Skinner stood.  
"I'll let you get some sleep."

Scully followed him to the front door. "Sir, please don't  
think I'm not grateful for this information, but..."

"But I could just as easily have delivered it over the  
phone?" Skinner glanced down the hallway to the bedroom  
and cleared his throat.

Scully blinked. Skinner looked almost...sheepish.

"Let's just say I was in the neighborhood, Scully. Keep in  
touch."

Scully closed the door and leaned against it, bemused. 

Grey shrugged. "Like I said, Fox may be a pain in the ass,  
but he grows on you."

A yawn stole her reply. Scully stretched, wincing when  
stiff muscles twanged. "You'd better hit the road if you  
want to catch Kristen still awake."

Grey ambled into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water  
from the refrigerator. "Not a problem. I phoned her while  
you were in with Fox and let her know I'd be crashing on  
your couch."

Scully swallowed and took a steadying breath. "You are?"

"I already told you, darlin'. I'll be right here as long as you  
need me."

"It won't happen again." She said it with a confidence she  
didn't feel. Grey's carefully neutral expression told her he  
knew it.

She busied herself retrieving sheets and a blanket from the  
linen closet, then helped him make up the sofa. In the back  
of her mind, she acknowledged that she was stalling.  
Afraid--not of Mulder, but of whatever new nightmare  
might wear her face.

*"Stop...hurts. Scully...no."*

Grey took the soft cotton blanket from her restless fingers.  
"It's going to be all right."

"Will it?"

"Eventually."

She mustered a smile as transparent as her earlier show of  
confidence. "Good night, Grey."

"Good night, Dana."

At the bedroom door, she heard him murmur, "Sweet  
dreams."

Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed they would be.

 

Georgetown  
Monday  
2:33 AM

 

*Oh, God. It hurts!

Logic tells him struggling is useless--the bright beam  
pinning him to the table is relentless, unbeatable. Fighting  
to break free only expends energy his wasted body can't  
afford to lose.

A crack, like a pencil snapping, and logic disappears,  
obliterated by his bloodcurdling shrieks. Screams that  
scour raw nerve endings, wring tears from his eyes, but  
never pass his lips--the light that immobilizes him also  
renders him mute.

"Resistance is futile, Mulder. Haven't you learned that by  
now? Cooperation is the only way you'll survive."

The seductive whisper is as great a torment as broken  
bones. Scully's sweet voice, her warm breath tickling his  
ear, the soft curve of her cheek. He can't even close his eyes  
to block out the beautiful, terrible sight.

"Talk to me, Mulder. Tell me what you're feeling. On a  
scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?"

The light winks out, releasing him. Flinching from her  
touch, he moans, the low cry of an animal in pain. He  
slams his eyes shut and shudders course through his body--  
pain, shock, fear. 

But he can't shut out her voice.

"Tell us what we need to know, love, and I'll help you. I'll  
give you something for the pain and hold you until you fall  
asleep."

He wants it so badly, the comfort only she can give. Yearns  
to feel her arms, her body. Velvet and steel, solace and  
strength. The face, the words, the tone--everything is right  
except the eyes. Flat. Assessing. Devoid of human warmth  
and emotion.

Alien.

"NOOOOOO!"*

 

Mulder bolted upright, choking back a scream. Heart  
pounding, he wrapped his arms around his body and  
panted. Sweat trickled into his eyes and plastered his tee  
shirt to his chest. He held up trembling hands, flexing his  
fingers.

Beside him, Scully slept the sleep of the exhausted. He  
leaned in closer, resisting the urge wake her. Lips slightly  
parted, respiration slow and deep, her warm breath  
feathered across his cheek. 

*"Resistance is futile, Mulder. Haven't you learned that by  
now? Cooperation is the only way you'll survive."*

Mulder jerked backward, shivering. Brow furrowed, Scully  
murmured a soft protest and then quieted. Swallowing hard,  
he swiped the moisture from his face with the hem of his  
shirt and slipped out of bed, careful not to shake the  
mattress.

He wandered into the living room and picked up the remote  
control, his finger poised over the button when he noticed  
the outline of a body on the couch. Grey sprawled across  
the cushions, cocooned in a blanket. Like Scully, he slept  
soundly, oblivious to Mulder's restless prowling.

He paced to the window and stared at the glowing  
streetlights and frosted car windows. The desire to run, to  
feel the crisp night air on his face and hear the slap of shoes  
on pavement, nearly overpowered him. Rubbing a hand  
over his protruding collarbone and too prominent ribs, he  
remembered the look on Grey's face when he'd stripped off  
his hospital gown and wondered how long it would be  
before his wasted body was capable of running again.

When his legs began feeling wobbly, he padded into the  
kitchen. Eschewing the overhead light for fear of waking  
Grey, he pulled a carton of milk from the refrigerator and  
sat down at the table.

He'd consumed about a third of the carton and was staring  
morosely at the ticking clock when the lights clicked on.

"Fox?" Grey stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. "What  
were you doing here in the dark?"

"Drinking milk." Mulder raised the carton. "Care to join  
me?"

"Thanks, but I think I'd rather have juice." Grey grabbed a  
glass from the cupboard, filled it, and dropped into the  
chair beside his brother's. He wrinkled his nose when  
Mulder took another swig. "You're going to catch hell if  
Dana sees you doing that."

Mulder shook his head. "Shows how much you know.  
Scully and I already faced off on this issue and negotiated a  
mutually agreeable solution." He tapped the label. "This is  
two percent. Scully prefers nonfat. She always makes sure I  
have my own carton so I can…" His voice caught and he  
blinked at the container.

"What?"

"I've been gone three months. Scully left here on the spur  
of the moment, with no guarantee she'd be bringing me  
home. Why would this be in the refrigerator?"

"Faith? Hope?" Grey smiled. "She never gave up on you,  
Fox. Not for a minute."

Suddenly the carton seemed to weigh ten pounds. Mulder  
set it down with a thud and buried his face in his hands.

"Fox? Are you all right?"

He peered through his fingers. "Me? I'm on the top of the  
world, can't you tell?" He hated the cautious, gentle  
expression that was Grey's response. 

"No one else expects you to ignore the past three months  
and just pick up where you left off, Fox. Why do you?"

"What I expect is for you to be my brother and not my  
shrink. *I'm* the psychologist, remember? And as you may  
recall, I've had more than a passing acquaintance with post-  
traumatic stress."

"This is different."

"Why? Because after twenty-eight years I finally got what  
was coming to me?"

"How about you can the pissy act and tell me why you  
were sitting here in the dark instead of curled up in bed  
with your wife?"

"I…" He drew in a shaky breath. Half of him needed to tell  
Grey, ached to unburden himself. The other was terrified of  
putting voice to the horror. "I remembered something"

*"Talk to me, Mulder. Tell me what you're feeling. On a  
scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?"*

He shivered, squeezing his eyes shut and knotting his  
fingers in his hair. "Shit!"

Time slipped its track. The next thing Mulder knew, Grey  
was rubbing the nape of his neck and making soothing  
sounds. He concentrated, and the sounds gradually resolved  
themselves into words.

"…just a memory, Fox. It's over now. You're home. You're  
safe."

"I'm okay," he panted. His head throbbed and his eyes felt  
hot and scratchy. "I'm okay."

"'Course you are." Grey sat back, lines creasing his  
forehead and marring his smile. 

Mulder braced himself for interrogation, surprised when  
Grey got up and walked out of the room. Reappearing  
moments later, he poured a glass of water and placed it and  
two Tylenol on the table.

He stared at the offering, then picked them up. "How'd you  
know I have a headache?"

"Your face gets squinty."

He nearly inhaled the pills. "My face gets *squinty*?"

"Yeah. You know." Grey scrunched up his own features.

Mulder shook his head. "I'm not sure what's scarier--that  
you're right about the headache or that you used the same  
word Scully does."

Several minutes of silence passed before he realized Grey  
was waiting him out. He looked down at his hands, flexing  
and curling the fingers.

"They, uh…" His voice cracked and he cleared his throat.  
"They broke my fingers. All of them. One by one."

He looked at Grey, gauging his reaction. His brother licked  
his lips but his expression remained calm. Only his hands,  
slowly curling into fists, gave away his anger. Grey finally  
spoke in a tight, controlled voice.

"Do you have any idea why they did it? Did they speak to  
you?"

Mulder's throat closed up but he ground out a reply. "Let's  
just say I've developed a whole new perspective on lab  
rats." He cocked his head. "You want to tell me why you  
don't seem all that surprised?"

Grey closed his eyes. "The x-rays, the MRI…"

Milk and water churned in his stomach. Mulder breathed  
through his nose, fighting the nausea. "There's more?"

Grey sighed and opened his eyes. "Lots more."

"Great. Something I can look forward to." He pressed both  
palms to the table and spread his fingers. "There's no  
residual pain. No impairment of mobility. I'm completely  
healed. How can that be?"

"We were kind of hoping you could tell us."

Mulder scowled but said nothing.

Another long silence stretched between them. Grey slid his  
hand across the table and clasped Mulder's arm. "Fox. What  
aren't you telling me?"

Mulder looked away. "I don't know what you mean."

"There's something else bothering you. Something more."

"What? Like the Great Fox Mulder Lab Experiment isn't  
enough?"

"Look, you can deny it all you like. But I know you, and I  
can tell when you aren't leveling with me."

"Let me guess--my face gets squinty."

"All I'm saying is that you need to talk to someone. If not  
me, then maybe Dana--" 

Mulder cut him off, horrified. "Scully is the *last* person I  
could tell."

"Okaaaay."

Mulder shoved back his chair, snatched up the carton of  
milk and returned it to the refrigerator. Bottles clanked and  
rattled when he slammed the door shut, then pressed his  
forehead to the cool metal. It was a long time before he  
spoke.

"There's a little detail I may have forgotten to share about  
our alien friends--some of them are shapeshifters. They can  
duplicate any human form; that's how they move among us  
without detection. They're good, too. It's nearly impossible  
to distinguish the copy from the real person."

Grey leaned forward.

"They…ah…they talked to me as they broke my fingers.  
Asked me questions. I couldn't get away, couldn't *move*,  
pinned down like a bug by that damn light--" He sucked in  
a deep breath. "They wanted to know exactly how it felt.  
How bad was the pain on a scale of one to ten? Did I build  
up a tolerance or did the degree of discomfort increase  
exponentially with each finger? The fact that they showed  
no empathy, only cold, clinical detachment, was almost as  
terrifying as the pain."

"I can't imagine--"

"No. You can't." Mulder turned and leaned against the  
appliance, wrapped in a self-hug. "Refusing to answer  
pissed them off. At first they tried upping the pain. When I  
still wouldn't give them what they needed, they came up  
with a different strategy. Suddenly…suddenly the leader of  
the alien inquisition looked a hell of a lot like my wife."  
Legs folding, he slid slowly down to the floor and rested  
his head on his knees.

Grey slipped out of his chair and sat beside his brother on  
the cold tile. Mulder leaned into him, drawing strength  
from the simple contact. He choked out a ragged laugh. "I  
guess it explains why I nearly strangled Scully."

"She understands, Fox. In fact, she suspected something  
like this."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? What they did,  
using Scully against me, was worse than 1000 broken  
bones. They stole the one thing in my life that I trust  
without reservation. How am I supposed to get it back?"

He felt Grey's hand, warm and solid, rest on his bowed  
head. "You don't have to get it back, little brother. You  
haven't lost it. Sure, they've got you confused, all twisted  
up inside. But you said it yourself--you trust it without  
reservation. Trust *her* without reservation. What  
happened to you just puts that to the test."

"When you say it like that, it sounds easy."

"Hell, no. I can pretty much guarantee nothing's going to be  
easy for a long time." He removed his hand, a tough edge  
creeping into his voice. "Fox, for three months I watched  
that woman focus mind, body, and soul on a single goal--  
finding you and bringing you home. Nothing else mattered.  
Don't you dare give her anything less."

Mulder turned his face toward Grey. "I never said I  
deserved her."

"Yeah? Well, you're in luck, 'cause she seems to think you  
do." He shifted, grimacing. "And on that note, I suggest we  
either move this discussion to the table or go back to bed.  
I'm freezing my ass off."

Mulder accepted the outstretched hand and allowed Grey to  
haul him upright. Baring his soul to his brother was both  
liberating and exhausting. Suddenly sleep sounded like a  
very good idea.

"Bed," he replied around a yawn. For the first time he  
really noticed the dark shadows under Grey's eyes. "You  
look like you need it as bad as I do."

Grey shrugged, one corner of his mouth turned up in a self-  
deprecating grin. "I've been having a little trouble with  
insomnia, but I think it'll be better now."

"Thanks." Mulder's voice wavered and his eyes burned. He  
gritted his teeth, cursing emotions too close to the surface.

"You're welcome. For what?"

"Being here. Listening." He huffed. "Kicking my ass for  
trying to wallow in self-pity."

"Hey, I'm you're big brother. Kicking your ass is not only a  
pleasure, it's an obligation."

They stared awkwardly at each other for a few moments  
before Grey pulled Mulder into a careful hug. "In case I  
forgot to mention it, it's really good having you home."

Mulder nodded, not trusting his voice. He waited until Grey  
had settled back onto the couch before shutting off the  
lights and feeling his way back down the hall to the  
bedroom.

Moonlight seeped through the blinds and spilled across the  
bed. Scully slept peacefully, lying on her stomach with her  
face turned toward the door. He stood over her for a long  
time, mesmerized by the muted fire of her hair, the delicate  
fringe of lashes, the pale shell of an ear.

When he slipped into bed, Scully rolled onto her side and  
her eyes fluttered open. "Mulder?" She touched his cheek,  
brushed her fingers through his hair. "Are you all right?"

He looked into eyes filled with warmth, affection, and  
concern and the weight in his chest eased. "I just needed a  
drink of water. Sorry I woke you."

She scooted over, tangling their legs and laying her head on  
his chest. "Your feet are like ice."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It's a shameless ploy for  
shared body heat. Looks like it worked."

She tightened the arm around his waist. "And it didn't even  
have to rain sleeping bags."

He chuckled. The laughter felt rusty and unfamiliar, as if  
pulled from mothballs after a long season if disuse, but  
amazingly good. Mulder was still smiling as he sank into  
dreamless sleep.

 

Georgetown  
Monday  
9:12 AM

 

The front door slammed shut and Grey staggered into the  
kitchen. He held a large bag of groceries in each arm and a  
white paper sack in his mouth.

"Honey, I'm home!" he sing-songed between clenched  
teeth.

Scully set her coffee mug on the table and grabbed the  
damp bag, wrinkling her nose. "I wondered where you'd  
gone." She peered inside. "Danishes? From Harner's?"

"Yup." Grey began unpacking the grocery bags.

Scully raised an eyebrow as he spread a banquet spread  
across the counter. "Filet mignon? Baking potatoes? Sour  
cream, fresh bread...*Double Stuff Oreos*?"

"Good with a tall glass of milk."

"Grey..."

"The cupboards were bare."

"So you stocked up on all of Mulder's vices."

"Hey, we've got some good sources of protein and fiber  
here."

"And fat, and cholesterol..." She trailed off. Despite Grey's  
banter, she could read grim determination in his level gaze.

"He looks like a stiff breeze could blow him away, Dana."

She sighed, surrendering. "Don't bother freezing the steaks;  
we can have them tonight. We'll make it a special 'welcome  
home' party. Call Kristen and ask her to join us."

"Will do." He tucked the sour cream and a carton of milk  
into the refrigerator. "Where's the guest of honor?"

"Still sleeping, last I checked." She frowned. "The  
diazepam must have hit him harder than I thought. He's  
been out for nearly eleven hours."

Grey cleared his throat. "Uh...not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"He had a little trouble during the night."

"Define 'a little trouble'."

"A nightmare." Grey grimaced and began unpacking the  
second bag. "Actually, more like a memory."

Scully grabbed his wrist. "Mulder remembered  
something?"

"Yeah."

"Well? What was it?" Scully flushed when Grey gently  
pried her fingers from his arm and she saw the small  
crescent-shaped marks her nails left behind. "Sorry."

He gestured for her to sit. Scully sank into her chair,  
watching through narrowed eyes as he leaned back against  
the counter and drew in a deep breath.

"He remembered them breaking his fingers."

She clasped trembling hands together and rested them in  
her lap. "How explicit was the memory?"

"He didn't go into a lot of detail, but..." Grey paused, teeth  
clenched, then continued in a monotone. "From what I can  
gather, they treated him like a science project. He said they  
asked questions as they hurt him. Quizzed him about the  
pain."

"God." Scully tightened her fingers until her knuckles  
turned white.

"It gets worse, Dana."

"I know where this is going, Grey. Was I the one breaking  
fingers or the one asking questions?"

"I, ah, guess they thought maybe he'd talk to you."

Scully closed her eyes, swiping at errant tears that leaked  
past her defenses. "I saw this coming, but..." 

She stood and picked up her empty mug. Grey shifted,  
giving her access to the sink, and continued to watch her.

"Dana."

"I expected this. I did."

"All right, so you expected it. That doesn't mean you can't  
be hurt by it. Or extremely pissed off. Dana..." He ducked  
his head, peering into her eyes. "Give it some time. You  
two will get past this."

She shut off the water and faced him, heedless of the  
droplets that trickled down her arms and dripped onto the  
floor. "I know we'll get past this. After all, coping is what  
Mulder and I do best. We spend our lives recovering from  
one tragedy after another. Well, I'm tired of it, Grey.  
Mulder deserves better than this. We both do."

Grey frowned. "What are you saying?"

She turned her back to him, snatching up the dishtowel and  
drying her hands. "Nothing. I just...I have some thinking to  
do."

"Do I smell coffee?"

Scully spun around, forcing a smile that felt unconvincing.  
Mulder shuffled over to the table, dropping into a chair  
with a soft grunt. She studied his damp hair and clean  
clothing with pursed lips, grateful to focus on something  
else.

"You showered."

"I smelled, therefore I showered." Mulder inhaled, eyes  
half-closed with bliss. "Now, did someone mention  
coffee?"

"Yes, there's coffee." She held up her finger. "And no, you  
can't have any. It's on the list of restrictions Dr. Hammond  
sent home with you. Right next to showering without  
supervision."

Mulder batted his lashes, lowering his voice. "Baby, you  
can be my shower chaperone any time you like. All you  
had to do was ask."

"I'm serious, Mulder. You're still too weak. You could have  
fainted, hit your head."

"First of all, real men don't faint. We black out, keel over,  
lose consciousness." When she glared at him, he huffed,  
"I'm fine, Scully."

"Catch." Grey tossed him the white sack.

Mulder fielded it and peeked inside. "Harner's!" He bit into  
a Danish, moaning as he chewed.

Scully's lips turned up but she shook her head. "You're  
going to regret that, Mulder."

"Don't tell me--it's on the list," Mulder said around another  
mouthful of pastry. He turned wistful eyes on Grey.  
"Coffee?"

Scully planted herself in front of the machine. "Over my  
dead body."

Grey lifted both hands. "Sorry, little brother. I will NOT  
go there."

"Coward."

"Nope. Just blessed with a healthy sense of self-  
preservation."

"Is that what you call it?"

Scully let them draw her in, reveling in the normality of  
their banter. Seeing Mulder like this, laughing and  
grumbling with Grey, she could forget about broken bones  
and scarred organs. Nightmares and panic attacks. 

At least, she could try. 

"Mulder, you have an appointment with Nick Brewer in a  
little over an hour. I'm going to get cleaned up."

"Need a little supervision, babe?"

She smiled, but her heart wasn't in it. "One hour, Mulder."

 

Georgetown Medical  
11:06 AM

 

It was becoming harder and harder to sit still. Mulder paced  
the exam room, all arms and legs and nowhere to go. He  
picked up an otoscope and flicked it on, using it to examine  
first a diagram of the circulatory system and then his own  
hand. After plugging it back into its base, he plucked two  
tongue depressors from a jar and began drumming on any  
and all available surfaces. He sensed Scully's eyes  
following every movement, but she remained silent.

"I still don't see why we had to do this today." He beat a  
rapid tattoo on the counter, occasionally tapping a glass jar  
full of cotton balls for variety. "Hammond ran every test  
known to mankind on me, and he released me from the  
hospital."

"Reluctantly. And with the understanding that you would  
see your own physician as soon as possible." Scully  
tightened her lips. "Mulder. Please sit down."

He dropped the sticks onto the counter and, shying away  
from the exam table, snagged a small, wheeled stool. He sat  
on the vinyl seat, swiveling left, then right. Even though he  
knew he was driving Scully nuts, he couldn't stop himself.

"Mulder, what's going on? You know you can trust Nick.  
Just let him look you over; it won't take long."

"I'm fine, Scully. I can think of a million places I'd rather  
be, that's all." He spun left and glimpsed the cloth restraints  
dangling from the sides of the mattress. Suddenly his  
mouth felt bone dry, and the itchy, jittery sensation  
ratcheted up several notches. Scrambling to his feet, he  
backed toward the door. "I need some water."

"Mulder, my man!" Nick breezed into the room, a chart in  
his hand and a fish tie knotted around his neck. "It's good to  
see you. Even if you do look like hell." He tipped his head  
at Scully. "Dana."

"Nick."

Nick's smile faded as he set the chart on the counter and  
folded his arms. "I've gone over the records you forwarded  
to me, and..." He shook his head. "Well frankly, I'm  
speechless."

"Welcome to the X-Files. They have that effect on the  
uninitiated."

Scully frowned at Mulder's flat, emotionless tone. "You  
know what we do, Nick. Mulder's told you about quite a  
few of our cases, not to mention the fact that you had a  
ringside seat when he nearly died from the alien virus."

Nick scratched his head. "Weeell, I don't exactly remember  
you calling it 'alien' at the time, but I've gleaned enough  
information since to put it all together." He looked at each  
of them with sharp eyes. "I know you both believe in the  
existence of extraterrestrial life. And that over the years  
you've seen some things that you feel corroborate that  
belief."

Mulder snorted softly. "Yeah. Well, now I could give  
whole new meaning to the term 'eye witness.'"

Nick's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying? The  
information I received states that you incurred your injuries  
in the line of duty. That you were abducted and held against  
your will for over three months."

"All true."

"Well then maybe you can explain how you survived the  
kind of trauma evidenced by the x-rays and MRI. Because  
as much as you've proven to be the comeback kid, there's  
no way in hell you should be breathing right now."

Mulder shook his head. "Nick, Nick. You're not thinking  
X-Files. Extreme possibilities, remember?"

"Mulder," Scully warned. 

A small piece of him felt remorse for playing with Brewer's  
head just to delay the inevitable.

Nick sucked in a quick breath. "Wait a minute, wait a  
minute. Are you trying to tell me *aliens* abducted you?"

Mulder tapped his nose.

Nick blinked, mouth hanging open. "My God."

"Had nothing to do with it."

"Mulder."

"Okay, let me get this straight. Aliens...," Brewer made a  
spiraling motion with his finger, "...beamed you up. And  
did this to you? How--"

"I don't remember."

Brewer raised his eyebrows.

"I don't...at first it was all a blank." Mulder stared at a point  
just past Brewer's shoulder. "It's starting to come back, in  
small pieces."

"Okay." Nick stroked his chin. "Why don't you, ah, hop up  
here and take off your shirt." He patted the exam table.

Mulder pushed down a spike of anxiety and seated himself  
on the mattress. Stripping off his tee shirt, he tossed it to  
Scully. He shivered, holding his body rigid as the cool air  
raised goosebumps.

Nick looked up from the chart and grimaced. "God,  
Mulder, what did they do, put you on some kind of alien  
Weight Watchers?"

The irreverent humor was exactly what he needed. Mulder  
relaxed, the stiff muscles in his back loosening. "You've got  
a hell of a bedside manner, Brewer. Didn't they teach you  
anything in med school?"

"They tried. 'Course, their approach was always a bit  
more...conservative than mine." He blew on his  
stethoscope, then pressed it to Mulder's chest. "Nice deep  
breaths."

Brewer proceeded to check respiration, heart rate, pupil  
response, the beds of his nails, and the whites of his eyes.  
He looked in Mulder's ears, nose, and throat and tested  
balance and coordination. Jotting a few notes on the chart,  
he sat back with a shrug.

"I have no explanation--but then, I don't think you expected  
one." When Scully pursed her lips and shook her head, he  
continued. "I'm troubled by the weight loss--I'm guessing  
you've dropped thirty pounds, and you never had it to lose.  
Along with the obvious weakness and fatigue, it puts you at  
high risk for whatever bug happens to be making the  
rounds--and there's plenty to choose from this time of year. 

"I want to give you an injection of, in simplistic terms, a  
vitamin cocktail. And I'll send an oral supplement home  
with you. You must take it, and the antibiotic Hammond  
prescribed, religiously." When Mulder made a face he held  
up a hand. "I'm very serious here, Mulder. We need to build  
you back up or the first cold that comes along will take you  
out at the knees. I'd also stick close to home, avoid public  
places for a couple weeks. By then you'll hopefully have  
regained some strength."

Mulder chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound.

"What?"

"Nick, I can't even get in an elevator right now without  
breaking into a cold sweat. I'm not exactly itching to go out  
on the town."

Nick glanced at Scully. "Yeah. About that. I'm sure you  
both realize Hammond made a strong recommendation for  
counseling."

Mulder chuffed. "Like that's going to happen."

"We haven't talked about it yet."

Mulder glared at Scully, irritated by the calm, firm tone of  
voice. "There's nothing to talk about."

"We'll discuss this later, Mulder."

"Who exactly do you expect me to see, Scully? Do we look  
in the yellow pages under Counseling dash Alien  
Abductees?"

"I told you, I'm not getting into this here."

"It doesn't matter where we 'get into this,' Scully, because  
the outcome will be the same. There's no way in hell I'm--"

Nick made a "time out" signal. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm an  
internist, not a referee and this is certainly not the Monday  
night fights. Take off the gloves, kids."

They glared at each other, continuing the argument  
nonverbally. Mulder was the first to break eye contact.

"So when can I get out of here?"

"Like I said, I'm going to send someone in to give you that  
injection. And I think we'll draw some blood, do a full  
work up. Some of Hammond's results were pretty wonky  
and I'd like to double check the labs."

Mulder met Scully's gaze, seeing his own amusement  
reflected back. "Then let's get it over with."

"I'm on it. Mulder, you can go ahead and put your shirt  
back on. Dana, if you'll come with me for just a moment, I  
think we could use your signature on a couple forms."

"Subtle," Mulder muttered as Scully handed him the shirt.

Nick opened the door and flashed him a grin and a sloppy  
salute. "She'll be right back. I promise."

Mulder swung his legs, drumming his heels against the  
metal table. Realizing he was gripping the edges of the  
mattress with white-knuckled intensity, he rubbed sweaty  
palms on his thighs. A dull pressure throbbed behind his  
eyes and the jittery feeling returned with a vengeance,  
vibrating through his tense body. He desperately wished  
Scully would come back, hating the little-boy feeling of  
insecurity.

A nurse carrying a stainless steel tray pushed open the door  
with her hip and smiled at him. He tried to smile back, but  
the tray's contents drew his attention like steel to a magnet.

"Hi, Mr. Mulder, I'm Lisa. Dr. Brewer asked me to give  
you this B12 injection and draw some blood. Do you have a  
preference?"

"What?" His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he  
felt lightheaded. When he forced himself to look at her, he  
saw she was asking which arm to use. "Um. Doesn't  
matter."

"All right, then. I'll make this as quick and painless as I  
can."

Soft rubber wrapped around his upper arm. He smelled the  
acrid bite of alcohol, felt cool wetness rub briskly over the  
crook of his elbow. A small pop, the cap coming off the  
hypodermic. Light glinting off the wickedly sharp needle.  
He stared at it, respiration doubling.

*Sharp, bright, stabbing agony. Needles in his arms, in his  
legs, in his neck. Blood, bright crimson, snaking through  
clear tubing and pooling in a large glass flask. His blood,  
pulsing, filling the container. Pumping. Heart pounding.  
NO! Move! Fight! Eyes--curious, watching, waiting.  
Scully! Help me! Bleeding. Ohgodohgod. So much blood.  
Can't move. Can't fight. Tired. So tired. Weight on his  
chest. Sinking. Fading. Scully. Please. No...*

"NO!"

Mulder fought back.

 

Georgetown Medical  
Monday  
11:43 AM

 

"Give it to me straight."

Scully looked at the exam room door, then into Brewer's  
piercing blue eyes. "Considering what he's been through--"

"Straight, Dana. Save the bullshit for the Feds."

She folded her arms, then, recognizing the defensive body  
language, dropped them to her sides. "What do you want  
from me, Nick?"

"The truth. He's my patient, and after all we've been  
through I consider you both friends. I need to know how  
he's really doing, and not just physically."

A nurse squeezed past them and into the exam room.  
"You're going to get the same results on that blood test,"  
Scully warned. "The anomalous levels of lymphocytes and  
glucocorticoids--all classic symptoms of prolonged  
exposure to a weightless environment."

Nick rubbed the back of his neck. "Give me a break, Dana.  
You two have knocked enough dents into my worldview  
for one day. And don't change the subject."

"I think you can guess how he's doing, Nick. The x-rays,  
the MRI--the evidence speaks for itself. For three months  
they systematically tortured Mulder. The physical marks  
may have healed, but not the wounds to his spirit." She  
shook her head. "Lack of appetite. Nightmares. Panic  
attacks. Every time he regains a memory the backlash is  
more intense, the repercussions more severe."

"Sounds like textbook PTSD. He's got to talk to someone,  
Dana."

"I'm not the one that needs convincing. You heard him."

"Yeah. Hate to say it, but he's got a point. Your average  
shrink is going to reach for the commitment papers five  
minutes after Mulder starts talking."

"Which leave us right back where we started. How do we  
get him the help he needs without--"

A cry of panic and a shrill scream filled the air. The clatter  
of metal and crash of broken glass immediately followed.  
Scully and Brewer bolted for the exam room.

Glass crunched and popped under Scully's feet as she ran  
into the room. A metal tray dangled from a shattered  
cabinet door. Reduced to shards, hypodermic needles and  
glass vials lay glittering on the floor. The nurse shivered  
and pressed herself against the wall. Blood oozed through  
her fingers as she pressed them to her nose.

"He's crazy," she sobbed, swiping at mascara-tinted tears  
when Brewer crouched down beside her. "He was a little  
freaked when I gave him the injection, but he went ballistic  
when I tried to draw blood--yelling, throwing things. He  
*hit* me, knocked me down."

"Calm down, Traci. You're all right."

"You didn't tell me he was dangerous. He belongs upstairs,  
not down here with..."

Scully scanned the room. The girl's sobs and Nick's  
soothing reassurances faded to the background. Small as  
the area was, moments passed before she spied him, folded  
up in a corner behind a crash cart and a rack of medical  
supplies. Knees clasped to his chest, head buried in his  
arms, he rocked back and forth.

"Mulder?"

Keeping her movements slow and deliberate, she got down  
on the floor and eased herself into his personal space,  
talking quietly in soothing tones.

"Mulder, it's me. You're all right. You're safe. No one is  
going to hurt you."

Mulder tightened his arms, rocking faster. He shook his  
head without lifting his face from its protective cradle.  
"Leave me alone. I know you're not her. Just...just leave me  
alone."

"Mulder, listen to me. I--"

"NO!"

She recoiled, scrambling back a few feet, but Mulder  
simply clamped both hands over his ears. He trembled,  
teeth chattering. "Please, stop. I can't...No more. No more."

Nick touched her shoulder and crouched down. "Traci went  
to get cleaned up. I convinced her we shouldn't call  
security. Am I wrong?"

"No! The last thing he needs is a stranger manhandling  
him, Nick. It would push him over the edge."

"Not a far trip from where I'm sitting." Despite his harsh  
words, Nick's eyes radiated concern. "Dana, you have to  
get him calmed down. I can't keep people out of here for  
long, especially once Traci starts running off at the mouth.  
I'll get a sedative--"

Scully shook her head, never taking her gaze off Mulder. "I  
already considered that, but it's no good, Nick. I'm pretty  
sure needles are what triggered this episode. If I approach  
him with a syringe..."

"Shit. You're right." Nick ran his fingers through his hair  
until it stood on end. "Okay, this is your call. What do you  
want me to do?"

"Leave us alone. Keep everyone out of here for at least five  
minutes. I know I can break through to him; I just need a  
little more time."

Nick made a face. "I'm not so sure that's a good plan,  
kiddo. He's dissociative. He already took out one of my  
nurses--what if he becomes violent?"

"He wouldn't hurt me. I'll be fine." She knew it was a lie,  
but tipped her chin up, looking Nick straight in the eye.

"Okay. Five minutes. But I'll be right outside, listening. If I  
hear anything..."

"I can handle this. Trust me."

"Just don't make me sorry I did."

"I won't. And Nick? Turn off the lights on your way out."

Nick froze, halfway to the door. "What?"

"You heard me. I've got an idea. Just--"

"Yeah, yeah. Trust you." Nick held his hand over the light  
switch for a long moment before flicking it off and leaving  
the room.

The sudden darkness was disorienting. Scully waited as her  
eyes gradually adjusted. The exam room had no windows,  
but light from the hallway filtered in through a frosted pane  
in the door. Eventually she could detect the shadowy  
outline of Mulder's body and the glitter of his eyes. He'd  
ceased rocking, but she could still sense his shivering.

"What...what's happening?"

"The light is gone, Mulder. The aliens are gone. There's just  
you and me. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you."

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut. "Blood. So much blood. I  
can't--"

"It was a memory, Mulder. Just a memory. They hurt you,  
hurt you terribly, but it's over and you're safe. I'm right  
here, love. Come back to me."

Mulder's voice rasped with sorrow. "They won't let me  
go...keep bringing me back. Please...don't let them bring me  
back."

Scully swallowed, her throat tight. "They can't hold you  
any more. See? The light is gone. You're free. You're safe."

"Sc...Scully?"

Thank God. Scully inched closer, tentatively stroking her  
fingers through his hair. "I'm right here, Mulder. Right  
here."

He reached up and latched onto her hand with a bone-  
crushing grip. "I can't go back in there, Scully."

"Shh. You don't have to." She tugged on his hand,  
maneuvering him into her arms.

At first it was like hugging a board--Mulder held himself  
stiffly, resisting her stroking hands and soothing words. He  
was too weak to hold out for long. Little by little he relaxed  
into her rocking, his head heavy on her shoulder.

"Sorry." He muttered the word into the crook of her neck,  
his lashes feathering against the sensitive skin. "Think I  
scared the shit out of that nurse."

Scully carded her fingers through his hair, relieved to hear  
the wry humor despite an underlying tremor. "Let's just say  
she probably won't be joining the Fox Mulder fan club."

Mulder sat up, extricating himself from her embrace.  
"There's a club?"

Damn his resiliency. He was already recovering, shoring up  
his defenses and sliding the mask firmly into place.

The door cracked open and Nick slipped inside, no more  
than a shadowy outline in the darkness. "Hey there,  
Mulder. What's the word?"

"The word?" Mulder stood up and extended an unsteady  
hand to Scully. "The word is I'm done assaulting nurses--at  
least for today." He winced at his own bitterness. "You can  
turn on the lights, Nick."

Nick flicked the switch and they all stood blinking against  
the abrupt brilliance. Propping one hip on the counter and  
folding his arms, Nick examined Mulder from head to toe.  
"You want to tell us what that was all about?"

Mulder shrugged. "You know us big, tough FBI agents.  
We're all cowards when it comes to needles."

"Oh, I'm familiar with the type. It's just that the typical  
response is to faint, not give the nurse a bloody nose."

Mulder looked away and clenched his jaw. "I'll say it again-  
-you've got a hell of a bedside manner, Nick."

"Look, I'm not trying to add to what I'm sure is a  
formidable stockpile of guilt. But I won't play let's pretend,  
either. What happened just now will continue to happen. If  
you don't get help dealing with the memories, they will eat  
you alive. For God's sake, Mulder! Next time Dana might  
be the one who draws your fire."

Mulder felt the words like a blow. He looked into Scully's  
face, hating the worry lines around her eyes and mouth.  
The confession slipped out, quiet and broken. "She already  
has." 

Scully hooked her little finger through his. "Did I just hear  
a breakthrough?"

"What do you want from me?"

Nick motioned for him to sit. "Sharing what you  
remembered is a start."

*Blood, bright crimson, snaking through clear tubing and  
pooling in a large glass flask.*

The room was shrinking, and the walls pressed inward,  
stealing his breath. Mulder shrugged free of Scully's grasp.  
Wrapping his arms around himself, he paced a restless  
circle, finally settling with his back against a wall.

"I must have been hallucinating. I don't see how it could be  
a true memory."

"What triggered it? The needle?" Scully asked.

Her mild, placating tone made Mulder feel like screaming.  
Anger mixed with the panic until it was difficult to separate  
one from the other. Mulder pinched the skin under his  
fingertips, using pain to drive back dark, irrational  
emotions.

"The needle started things rolling. But it was the sight of  
blood...my blood..." He tried licking his lips but didn't have  
enough spit. "I have this crazy image of them...taking my  
blood."

Scully and Brewer exchanged glances. "It's very possible,  
even likely, you lost some blood, Mulder. Your CBC  
indicated mild anemia, which--"

"You're not listening to me." Mulder snarled the rebuke,  
startled by the force of his own anger. He pinched himself  
again, twisting hard. "They didn't take *some* of my blood.  
They took *all* of it."

Nick frowned. "But that's...there's no way you'd be--"

"I know how it sounds, damn it! But I'm telling you, the  
flashback was crystal clear. I could see it, feel it. And I  
would swear..."

*Weight on his chest. Sinking. Fading.*

As he caught himself sliding down the wall, he straightened  
his buckling legs. Scully started toward him, but stopped.  
Her entire body tensed with the strain of respecting his  
need for distance. She blinked back tears and drew a shaky  
breath. 

"What? You would swear what, Mulder?"

Oh, God, he didn't want to think about this, and he sure as  
hell didn't want to talk about it. He shook his head, denying  
Scully's urging and Nick's stunned disbelief. He knew he  
was breathing too fast, could feel the chill of  
hyperventilation tingling through his extremities, but  
couldn't stop. Looking around the room, searching for some  
kind of distraction, he saw the two syringes, one partially  
filled with blood.

His blood.

*The bright red flow slows to a steady trickle. His eyes  
slide shut, the lids too heavy to resist. Fluttering like a  
butterfly's wings, his heart races. Falters. Stills. And then  
he breaks free, soaring above the pain, the fear. Reaching  
for peace and warmth, and a brilliance more beautiful than  
his mind can comprehend. Maybe this time, he thinks. God,  
if you're really there, help me. Please, please make them let  
me go...*

"Mulder!"

He heard a sharp crack, and heat flooded his cheek.  
Mulder tumbled back into his body, gasping. He was  
propped against the wall, ass on the linoleum--again.  
Scully knelt between his legs, peering anxiously into his  
eyes. She flinched when he raised a trembling hand to his  
stinging cheek.

"Are you all right?"

God, he was tired of that question. "I'm not sure." 

"You stopped breathing." Nick crouched down beside  
Scully, who was taking his pulse and checking his pupils.  
"Scared the hell out of us. Must have been some flashback."

He shivered, grateful when Scully stopped playing doctor  
and warmed his icy fingers with her own. "What happened,  
Mulder?"

"I remembered some more." The images faded but  
stubbornly clung to the corners of his mind.

"Tell me."

He swallowed, his dry throat clicking. "I died, Scully. I died  
again, and again, and again."

 

Georgetown  
Monday  
1:16 PM

 

Grey had logged onto the computer and was wading  
through 156 new emails when he heard a key rattle in the  
lock. Deleting three more pieces of SPAM, he listened with  
one ear as Dana and Fox entered the apartment.

"Go and sit on the couch, Mulder."

"I'm thirsty. Damn stuff always gives me dry mouth." 

"Here, give me those. I--" The metallic clatter of keys  
hitting the hardwood floor, followed by Dana's  
longsuffering sigh. "Mulder."

"Sorry."

"I'll get you some juice. Just go sit down before you fall  
down."

Grey swiveled in his chair, watching his brother walk to the  
couch. He moved slowly and deliberately, as if  
concentrating on each step.

"Hey. How was the appointment?"

Fox listed a little to the left as he turned and sank into the  
cushions. He dropped his head onto the back of the couch.  
"Eye-opening." He smirked, the corners of his mouth  
turning up.

Okaaaay. Grey regarded the relaxed sprawl and serene  
demeanor. If he didn't know better... He leaned closer and  
peered into his brother's eyes. Sure enough, the pupils were  
abnormally dilated.

Dana emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tall glass of  
apple juice. She placed it into Fox's hand, steadying it  
before she let go. Meeting Grey's inquisitive stare, she  
subtly shook her head.

"I saw that." Fox sipped his juice, gaze moving between the  
two of them. "Just because I'm stoned doesn't mean I'm  
oblivious."

Grey frowned. "You're stoned?"

"Oh yeah."

Grey looked at Dana. "What the hell happened?"

"Standard procedure for any patient who assaults his  
nurse." Mulder saluted with his glass and apple juice nearly  
sloshed over the rim.

Scully rescued it and set it on the coffee table. "I think Nick  
was a little heavy handed with the Valium."

Mulder grinned goofily. "Good stuff. Even my bones are  
relaxed."

"Could we please go back to the bit about the nurse?" Grey  
didn't disguise the edge in his voice.

"I had a little flashback. No, wait--strike that. Biiiiig  
flashback. A 'somebody call the guys in the white coats'  
flashback." Mulder snuffled a laugh.

"While you were at the hospital?"

"Knocked Nurse Nancy clear across the room. Bet she  
didn't expect that when she came to work this morning.  
Nursing: It's not just a job, it's an adventure."

Grey recognized the guilt lurking beneath the sarcasm. "Is  
she all right?"

Dana sat beside Fox, resting one hand on his leg. "*Traci*  
is fine, more shaken up than anything. Nick calmed her  
down, explained the situation."

Mulder threw an arm over his eyes. "Probably something  
along the lines of 'Don't mind him. Ever since he was  
abducted and tortured by aliens he just hasn't been  
himself.'"

"Mulder."

"Sorry."

Dana tugged his arm away from his face. "You are  
traumatized, Mulder. Not crazy. There's a big difference."

Fox blew out a long breath and looked at her with ancient  
eyes. "Somehow I don't think Traci sees it that way."

"Considering what you think happened--"

"Not think. *Know*."

"--your reaction is perfectly understandable."

Grey raised his hand. "Yoohoo. Remember me? The guy  
who couldn't buy a clue?"

Dana looked at Fox, who extended his hand. She pursed her  
lips and thought for a moment before speaking. "Mulder  
remembers them taking his blood."

"What, like vampires?"

Mulder snickered. "He's come such a long way, hasn't he,  
Scully? I'm so proud."

Dana glared at him. "More like the Red Cross."

"Except the Red Cross generally doesn't drain you dry."  
Mulder yawned hugely, eyelids drooping.

"Drain you..." Grey trailed off. "But taking all your blood  
would kill you."

"Give the man a cigar," Mulder mumbled, closing his eyes.

"Fox?"

"I died, Grey. Many times."

Grey looked at Scully. "How could that be?"

"How can we possibly guess what they're capable of? From  
what we've seen, they can run circles around us  
technologically. And, if we're to believe even a fraction of  
the abduction accounts, they've been experimenting on  
humans for years."

"Using humans as guinea pigs is one thing. But bringing  
them back from the dead?"

"I understand the finality of death, Grey, it's in my damn  
job description. For God's sake, we're talking about my  
husband! Do you think this is easy for me?"

Grey mustered a weak smile. "I see your point." He took a  
deep breath. "So you believe Fox is right? That this  
flashback was a recovered memory?"

"It explains the x-rays, the MRI. It makes no sense that  
Mulder survived such massive trauma."

"Because he didn't." Grey rubbed the back of his neck,  
unable to soothe the tension. "Dear God, Fox, no wonder  
you needed the Valium. I could use a hit myself."

"He dropped off a moment ago." Smiling, Dana stroked a  
lock of hair from Mulder's eyes. "He really needs a  
haircut." She stood and collected the half-filled glass of  
juice. "I don't know about you, but since Valium's not an  
option I think I'll take a cup of coffee."

Grey hauled himself upright. "You just going to leave him  
like that?"

"Leave him this moment of peace, Grey. Knowing Mulder,  
he won't be out for long."

Grey sat at the kitchen table, watching Scully set up the  
coffee maker. She moved with competent efficiency,  
shoulders straight hands busy. He propped his chin on one  
fist and studied her from the corner of his eye.

"Want to tell me about it?"

Dana faltered, spilling coffee grounds on the counter. "No,"  
she said, reaching for a sponge.

"Why not? Dana, I can see this scared the hell out of you.  
Talk to me."

She didn't move for a moment, then dropped the sponge  
into the sink. After taking a long look into the living room,  
she joined Grey at the table. Leaning in close, she pitched  
her voice just above a whisper.

"This was worse than anything we've seen so far. He was  
out of it for at least five minutes, Grey. I was terrified  
someone would call psych services and he'd wind up  
admitted. Thank God, Nick keeps a calm head in a crisis."

"What provoked this? Were you there when it happened?"

"Nick wanted a blood sample."

"Oh, God."

"We'd stepped into the hallway to talk. I saw the nurse go  
into the exam room, but it never occurred to me--"

"Of course it didn't. We both know flashbacks are highly  
unpredictable."

"By the time I got back into the room, the nurse was on the  
floor and Mulder was huddled in a corner babbling about  
blood and begging 'them' to stop." She bit her lip, her eyes  
misting with tears.

"How did you break through to him?"

"Luck, mostly. I figured the environment was contributing  
to Mulder's delusion--the medical equipment, the smells,  
the bright lights. So I asked Nick to turn out the lights and  
sent him out of the room."

Grey sat up straight. "The light! That's how they  
immobilized him."

Dana nodded. "Once the room was dark and we were alone,  
he snapped out of it."

"Did Brewer have to sedate him? I hate seeing him like  
that."

"After the flashback, when Mulder was telling us what he'd  
remembered, it triggered some kind of panic attack."

"Like the one in the elevator?"

"Worse. Much worse." She pressed her fingers against  
trembling lips. "He stopped breathing, Grey."

He shivered, goosebumps tingling his skin. "Stopped?"

"Just for a few seconds, but--"

"Dana, there's no 'just' to not breathing." Grey got up and  
rummaged through the cupboard for two mugs. He poured  
the coffee with unsteady hands and gave one to Dana.

"What are you thinking?" she asked as he gulped down the  
hot brew.

"I'm thinking I'd like to string the little bastards up and give  
them a taste of their own medicine." When she didn't  
respond, he returned to the table. "What are you thinking?"

"That we've only seen the tip of the iceberg. That things  
will likely get worse before they get better." She tipped her  
chin up. "And that I will *not* lose him to this."

God, she was so much like Kate. Strong. Stubborn.  
Tenacious as hell when it came to protecting the ones she  
loved. 

"I'm right there with you, darlin'."

"At least something positive came from the whole mess. I  
think Mulder finally realizes he needs help."

"Sometimes you have to hit bottom before you realize how  
far you've fallen."

"Sounds like the voice of experience."

Grey rolled the cup between his palms. "When Kate died,  
I...lost myself for a while. I suppose it was inevitable. For  
months I'd eaten and rested just enough to keep  
functioning. Taking care of Kate, being there for her in  
every way possible, had become my whole life. And then  
she was gone, and I felt as if a big piece of me went with  
her."

Dana rested her hand on his arm. "Your partner used the  
word 'decimated.' He said he feared you might never pull  
out of it."

"It felt as if I'd fallen into a deep hole. I could see light up  
above, but it was too far away and I was too damn tired to  
climb back out. Mark and the other guys at work, my  
family--they tried everything they could think of to reach  
me. But it wasn't enough. I just kept falling."

"What happened?"

A memory flickered through his mind--waking up on the  
bedroom floor surrounded by old photos and empty beer  
bottles, a headache pounding behind his eyes, a terrible  
taste in his mouth, and his gun clutched in one hand.  
"Probably the same thing that happened to Fox--I scared  
the hell out of myself. I finally had to acknowledge how  
deep I'd gotten."

He sighed, grinding the heel of one hand into his eye. "I  
started attending a support group for people who'd lost  
loved ones to cancer. And I quit shutting myself off from  
friends and family." He chuffed. "Well, I tried."

Dana squeezed his arm. "I'm glad you turned things around.  
And that they got better."

"I'll be honest with you, Dana. Things didn't get better--not  
at first. For a very long time the only thing getting me out  
of bed each morning was pigheaded stubbornness." He  
smiled. "And knowing Kate would've kicked my ass six  
ways to Sunday if I'd given up."

Dana sipped her coffee, smiling around the rim of the cup.  
"Well, the stubbornness seems to be hereditary. And I think  
the two of us can provide the ass kicking."

"Got that right." Grey sobered. "All I'm saying is that we  
shouldn't set the bar too high. After what Fox has gone  
through...well... Let's just say running is highly overrated.  
Sometimes just putting one foot in front of the other is a  
major victory."

"You know, you..."

The phone trilled, cutting off her reply. Scully grabbed for  
the receiver, catching it on the second ring.

"Hello?" She stiffened her spine, turning her full attention  
to the caller. "You did?...Are you sure?...What do you  
mean, Langly *thinks* --either it is or it isn't..."

Fox appeared in the doorway, rumpled and glassy-eyed.  
"Who's Scully talking to?"

"Sounds like Byers or Frohike."

"Byers and Frohike don't sound anything alike."

"Uh...yeah. Why don't you come and sit down?" Grey  
nudged a chair from the table with his foot, keeping an eye  
on his brother and an ear on Dana.

"All right. All right! I'll be there in a few minutes...Yes...In  
your dreams, Frohike."

Well, that answered that question.

Scully hung up and looked at Mulder, slumped in his chair.  
"That was the guys. They've been playing with that funny  
rock you found, Mulder, and they think they've figured out  
what it is. I'm going over there now."

Mulder caught her arm as she stood, much of the sleepiness  
fading from his eyes. "You said they figured it out. What is  
it?"

"They're speculating, Mulder. You know those three--  
Langly still thinks metal detectors are--"

"Scully. What is it?"

She searched his face, uncertain. When he stared back at  
her, fingers tightening, she sighed. "They say it's a tracking  
device, Mulder. That it called the ship that abducted you." 

 

Lone Gunmen Headquarters  
Monday  
2:59 PM

Scully shut off the engine but didn't move, staring out the  
window at the Gunmen's scratched and pitted door. Curling  
her fingers more tightly around the steering wheel, she  
sighed and slowly turned toward Mulder. He was out cold,  
his head pressed against the passenger window, breath  
fogging the glass.

"Are you okay?" Grey braced his arms on the seatback,  
frowning.

"No." She couldn't tear her eyes from Mulder's face--pale,  
gaunt, but peaceful. "I don't think I'm going to be okay for  
quite some time."

Grey squeezed her shoulder, his long fingers massaging  
tense muscles. "One foot in front of the other, darlin'. " He  
got out of the car but leaned back inside. "You'd better  
wake Sleeping Beauty or I'm gonna get an armful when I  
open his door."

"In your dreams, Bubba." Mulder sat up, wincing, and  
rolled his shoulders.

Grey tugged open Mulder's door. "Well, hey there, Fox.  
Nice of you to join us."

Mulder rubbed a hand over his face. "Water?"

Scully pulled a bottle from the cup holder. He drained half  
the contents and replaced the cap, smirking a little at Grey,  
who was shuffling his feet and rubbing his hands.

"Either he's really got to pee or he's freezing his ass off.  
Either way, we'd better go."

Mulder leaned against the side of the building and listened  
to the shotgun pop of disengaging locks, bemused that he  
found such a paranoid sound comforting. The door finally  
swung open and he followed Scully inside. 

"Hey, Hickey. Long time no--" His glib greeting cut off in  
a grunt as Frohike grabbed him in a bear hug.

"Mulder. Thought we'd lost you, buddy."

The genuine emotion in the man's voice made Mulder's  
throat hurt. Blinking stinging eyes, he awkwardly patted  
Frohike's shoulder. "How many times do I have to tell you,  
Melvin? Not in front of Scully."

"Hey, look who's here! Mulder, my man. You look  
like...crap. Ow!" Langly rubbed his side and glared at  
Frohike. "What was that for?"

"You look like crap?"

"He does!"

Byers stepped around his bickering friends and clasped  
Mulder's hand. "Welcome back, Mulder. Things weren't the  
same without you."

Mulder returned the pressure. "That's supposed to be a  
compliment--right?"

"Who else was there to fuel their conspiracy theories?"  
Scully said dryly. "Face it Mulder--you're a paranoid's wet  
dream."

"I love it when she talks dirty," Frohike moaned.

Scully rolled her eyes. "Langly? The rock?"

"Over here." Langly led them to a workbench littered with  
computers and other assorted equipment. Mulder's "rock"  
lay in one of the few uncluttered spaces. "We started  
working on it as soon as your bro' dropped it by this  
morning," he said with a nod to Grey. "First off, it's not a  
rock."

Mulder leaned over Langly's shoulder. "Not exactly a news  
flash."

"We ran a bunch of tests on the material and came up  
empty."

"What does that mean?" Grey asked.

Frohike looked at him over the top of his glasses. "It means  
it's not made from any known substance--on this planet  
anyway."

"It's harder than steel," Byers chimed in. "We took a blow  
torch to it. It didn't even get warm."

"Yeah, but it heats up when you hold it." Frohike shook his  
head. "Weirdness."

"Heats up? The damn thing nearly burnt through my palm."  
Mulder rubbed his thumb over the healed flesh.

"You're taking this well, Mulder. Gotta admit, I'd be  
freaking," Langly said.

"I'm on very good drugs."

"Cool."

"You said you think it called the ship that abducted Mulder.  
How?" Scully asked.

Langly dragged a piece of equipment closer and turned it  
on with a flick of his thumb. "This is a type of oscilloscope.  
It measures sound frequency. We borrowed it from a  
friend."

"You are probably aware that sound, put simply, is a  
vibration through an elastic solid, a liquid or a gas," Byers  
said. "Sound waves travel outward in all directions from  
the source."

Mulder nodded. "Frequency is a measure of the vibrations  
per second."

"Exactly. We express frequency in Hertz, which  
corresponds directly to the pitch of a sound. Optimally,  
people can hear from 20 to 20,000 Hertz."

"Let me guess. You're going to tell me this thing," Mulder  
gestured to the rock, "is emitting sound undetectable to the  
human ear."

"Good guess," Langly replied.

Grey frowned at the oscilloscope. "That thing's on, right? I  
mean, I can see it registering our voices. So where's the  
sound waves from the rock?"

Frohike looked gleeful. "Pick it up."

"Huh?"

"Somebody pick it up."

Scully lifted the rock. Immediately, the oscilloscope sped  
up, the display registering 30 kHz. Startled, she dropped it  
back onto the counter and the readout fell to zero.

"Wow," Grey breathed. He tentatively extended a hand  
and, after a moment's hesitation, picked up the rock. 

This time the machine jumped to nearly 45 kHz. Frohike  
whistled, shaking his head as they all stared at the reading.  
After a moment Grey released the rock and let it tumble  
back onto the bench. Hissing, he rubbed his palm.

"Damn it! That thing burns!"

"It never got hot for any of us." Langly poked the rock with  
one finger. "And our readings were around 30 kHz, like  
Scully's."

Silence, then five pairs of eyes fastened on Mulder. He  
licked his lips.

"Guess this is where I'm supposed to give it a try."

"Mulder, wait." Scully put her hand on his arm, holding  
him in place. "I'm not so sure you should touch that thing.  
If it is some kind of calling device..."

"Damn straight! We all know what happened last time,"  
Grey muttered.

Mulder stared at the rock. The thought that such an  
innocuous package could conceal advanced technology  
both fueled his curiosity and sent a flicker of apprehension  
to the pit of his stomach.

"There's no other way." He looked at the others, his face set  
in a blank, emotionless mask. "We need to know--*I* need  
to know--whether this thing is responsible for landing me  
in hell. We can postulate and theorize from here to next  
week, but the only way to be sure requires empirical  
evidence."

He started forward but Scully clamped down harder.  
"Mulder."

"Scully." He searched her tired, careworn features for  
understanding. "I *have* to know."

She closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded and  
released his arm. Grey stepped aside and Mulder moved up  
to the bench. Sucking in a deep breath, he picked up the  
rock. 

*Light blinds him, tearing through his body like knives,  
pinning him in place. He sees Grey as if from a great  
distance, face deathly pale, eyes wide with shock, fear. He  
strains every muscle in his body, desperate to move, to  
touch, to grab hold of the man who has been his anchor so  
many times in the past.

"Help me!" The scream echoes in the silence of his mind.  
"Please, Grey. Don't let them take me!"

His stubborn determination actually pays off--just a twitch  
of his little finger, but the surge of hope makes his heart  
lurch. The light pulses brighter, white-hot agony erupting  
along every nerve ending like fire. Black spots explode  
across his vision, then everything goes dark.

Awareness seeps slowly into his muddled brain. White.  
Everywhere. Walls, floor, ceiling--sterile, featureless. No  
windows. No door. No clothes. Light is everywhere and  
nowhere. He stands, back pressed against a wall, head  
throbbing.

"I know for a fact I never said 'Beam me up, Scotty.'"

His voice echoes, bouncing off the walls. He shivers,  
despite the room's warmth. Wrapping his arms around his  
body he crouches down. Waiting.

He knows they're watching. Can feel eyes studying his  
every sound, every movement with cool, dispassionate  
interest. Sometimes he talks to them. Sometimes he curses  
them. More and more often, he pleads with them. It doesn't  
matter--the response is the same.

Nothing.

Time passes--he's not sure how much. There is no day, no  
night. Just the relentless brilliance of artificial light. He  
knows hunger and thirst. Shame when he breaks down and  
relieves himself in a corner. And loneliness like a cancer,  
devouring him from the inside out. Shattering his false  
bravado, stripping away his resistance.

By the time a door materializes in the wall he's desperate to  
hear a voice, see a face. Even alien.

When his captor steps inside, he gasps and stumbles  
backward, recognizing his folly. 

There are worse things than loneliness.*

"Mulder! Look at me, Mulder."

Scully's voice, sharp with fear brought him back. Mulder  
blinked and the white room melted away, sounds and  
images filtering in and replacing it. Scully's face was inches  
from his own; her rapid puffs of breath tickled his cheek.  
There was something cold and hard beneath him, and  
something warm and yielding against his back. Pain, like  
liquid fire, seared the palm of his hand.

"Mulder?"

"What happened?" He croaked the question.

Scully wilted. Mulder scanned his surroundings and found  
that he was huddled on the floor with Scully crouched in  
front of him while Grey supported him from behind. 

"You had another flashback," Scully said, checking first  
one pupil and then the other. "It started as soon as you  
picked up the stone."

Mulder slowly lifted his right hand. Blisters were already  
forming on the palm, and finger-shaped bruises encircled  
the wrist.

"Sorry." Grey's apology held a tremor. "You froze up. That  
thing was burning your hand--I had to force you to drop it."

Mulder recognized his role in this little drama and knew the  
script by heart. It was time to make a smart ass remark and  
shrug off Grey's gentle hold. 

He couldn't do it.

Reawakened memories, terrifying in their clarity,  
pummeled him like physical blows. Light. Hunger.  
Despair. Fear. Oh, God, ignorance really was bliss. He  
shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut.

Grey tightened the arm around his chest; Scully cupped his  
cheek.

"It's okay, Mulder. Just relax."

He concentrated on breathing--nice, deep, even breaths that  
filled his lungs and settled his jangling nerves. Listening to  
Scully and Grey repeat a litany of reassurances.

It's over.

You're home.

You're safe.

We're here.

After several minutes he opened his eyes and sat forward.  
Grey had climbed to his feet and extended a helping hand  
before Mulder unfolded his wobbly legs.

"Come sit on the couch, Mulder." Scully's tone allowed no  
refusal. "I need to dress that burn."

She guided him to the ratty sofa and sat beside him. Byers  
handed her a first aid kit while Langly and Frohike hovered  
nearby, looking at Mulder with an uneasy mixture of worry  
and fear.

Mulder sighed. "Guess this proves it. I really am a 'ticking  
time bomb of insanity.'" He scowled at the Gunmen.  
"Would you three lighten up? That was a joke."

Scully pulled his hand into her lap. "How about telling us  
what you remembered?"

He focused on her hands as she smoothed antibiotic cream  
over his palm and covered it with gauze. Bright, white light  
flickered at the edges of his vision, but he ignored it.

"I...ah..." He cleared his throat, realizing his mouth was  
desert dry. 

A hand holding a water bottle appeared before his eyes. He  
looked up into Frohike's concerned face before accepting it  
with a grateful nod. The little man inclined his head, a  
smile softening the grim lines around his eyes and mouth.

Mulder drank deeply, everyone's watchful eyes an  
uncomfortable reminder of another, less pleasant time. He  
bounced one leg, then the other, the all-too-familiar post-  
flashback jitters earning him a frown from Scully. 

Grey perched on the arm of the couch. "It can wait, Fox.  
Take all the time you need."

He cleared his throat again. "I remembered what happened  
right after I was taken...and something else."

Haltingly, he recounted the details of the flashback. Scully,  
Grey, and the Gunmen listened without interruption,  
though their faces looked pale and strained. When Mulder  
reached the part where his captors finally showed  
themselves, he clenched his jaw.

"It was him, Scully. The alien bounty hunter. He was the  
one in charge, the first one through the door."

Scully ran her thumb over the back of his bandaged hand.  
"I guess that explains how they knew to use me against  
you."

"The bastard smiled at me." Mulder rubbed his forehead, a  
dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. "He said, 'We've been  
waiting for you, Agent Mulder.'"

He looked up in time to catch Scully, Grey, and the  
Gunmen exchanging glances. "What?"

"When you picked up the rock, the oscilloscope went off  
the scale," Scully said. "It was emitting more than 80 kHz  
and hot enough to blister your hand."

He was so damn tired, his brain sluggish and  
uncooperative. Obviously he was missing something, but  
what?

"So?"

"It didn't react that way for the rest of us. Well, your bro'  
got a little bit of a rise out of it," Langly amended. "But for  
you--dude, it went nuts."

"The device is keyed to respond to a specific body  
chemistry," Byers said.

We've been waiting for you, Agent Mulder.

Mulder tensed, eyes widening. "Mine."

 

Georgetown  
Monday  
9:37 PM

 

"Hey." Scully watched with curved lips and tender eyes as  
Mulder shuffled across the room and collapsed onto the  
couch. The worn, navy sweatpants rode low on his hips,  
and she could see the outline of his collarbone through his  
tee shirt. With his hair tousled and pale cheeks slightly  
flushed from sleep, he looked remarkably like a toddler just  
woken from a long nap.

"Hey." He ran a hand over his face and let out a gusty sigh.  
"Where's Grey?"

"Well, when it became apparent you were down for the  
count, he headed over to Kristen's so they could get  
something to eat."

He darted a quick look at the clock. "Shit. She was coming  
for dinner tonight, wasn't she?"

"We'll do it tomorrow. The steaks will keep."

He dropped his head onto the back of the couch. "Is there a  
more worthless human being on the face of this planet?"

"Mulder."

"I thought not."

"Mulder, do I really have to say it?"

"Only if doing so gives you some intrinsic sense of  
satisfaction."

She pursed her lips, but left it alone. "Did you sleep well?"

"I didn't wake up screaming, so I guess that would be a  
yes." When Scully tensed, he reached for her hand and  
wove their fingers together. "I'm sorry. I'm just so damn  
tired of everything."

She scooted closer and he obligingly slipped an arm around  
her shoulders, resting his cheek on her head. "Mulder. You  
are the most driven person I've ever known. Do you  
remember what I once told you? About your search for the  
Truth?" She felt him smile.

"I think it involved me digging up the desert with shovel."

"Close enough." Scully slipped her hand under the tee shirt  
and stroked warm skin, her voice low and pensive. "Once  
you've set a goal, you push yourself beyond all reason to  
achieve it. That intense, obsessive focus is precisely what  
made you the best profiler in the Bureau's history. But it's  
also why you crashed and burned."

Mulder tensed. "I thought I was the one with the psych  
degree."

"You can't force this, Mulder. This isn't a conspiracy to be  
uncovered or a criminal to be caught. Your body, your  
mind--both need time to process the past three months."

He made an odd sound. Scully pulled away and looked into  
his face, reading both anger and uncertainty in the lines  
around his eyes and the tight set of his jaw. "What?" she  
asked quietly. "Mulder, talk to me."

"Maybe I don't want to process--did that ever occur to  
you?" He huffed. "Why would it? After all, Fox Mulder's  
all-consuming passion is the truth. Who could predict that  
one day he'd shuck his moral high-handedness and wish for  
ignorance?"

She stared at him. "You don't want to remember."

Mulder just evaded her eyes, his throat working.

"You think I don't understand?"

Her words hung there, suspended between them, until  
Mulder finally choked out a reply. "I'm the one who didn't  
understand."

Pieces clicked into place. Scully laid her head back on his  
shoulder. "That was different."

"How?" He sounded angry, bitter, but she knew the  
emotions were directed inward and not toward her.

"We were in a different place. We'd barely scratched the  
surface--not just of what was out there, but of what lay  
between us."

"You can justify it all you like, Scully. But the fact is I  
pushed you to remember. Hard. I was so...so *driven* to  
discover the truth, I didn't stop and think about what that  
discovery might do to you."

She closed her eyes, remembering her struggle between  
fear and the desire to please him. Mulder wanted to plow  
ahead, rock solid in his purpose, while her entire world was  
tilting crazily on its axis and she could barely keep her feet.  
Shamed by her apparent weakness, she'd wondered if  
anything scared her seemingly fearless partner.

"You'll get through this, Mulder. You've never backed  
down from a challenge in your life. This is just one more  
opportunity for you to put that tenacity to use."

His lips twitched. "Tenacity. That's a lot more tactful than  
pigheaded."

"Well, you've been back less than a week. The grace period  
hasn't expired yet."

Mulder tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers  
lingering on her cheek. "There's something there, Scully.  
Buried deep. Something... It's bad."

She kept her voice steady. "Whatever it is, we'll deal with  
it."

"Sure. We're good at dealing. Plenty of practice."

The weary reply, so close to her own thoughts of late, made  
her stomach ache. Scully traced the outline of a rib with her  
fingertips, feeling the angular hardness of bone beneath a  
thin layer of flesh. "Sometimes it feels like a lifetime, not  
just ten years."

"It's not the years. It's the mileage." Her smile at the  
familiar quote faded when he continued, "I'm tired, Scully."

"I know."

"No, I don't think you do. Scully, I don't know if..."

She gently untangled herself from his arms and sat up.  
Mulder was chewing on his lower lip, his eyes red-rimmed  
and over-bright. "Say it, Mulder."

"I don't know if I can do this anymore." 

Scully smoothed her palm up and down his thigh as she  
considered her response. Complete honesty won out.

"Neither do I." She shrugged at Mulder's raised brows. "I  
didn't sleep well the last few months. A cold bed in the  
middle of the night inspires reflection."

"About?"

"Life. Death. Whether chasing little green men and  
unmasking vast, shadowy conspiracies is worth the price."

"Grey told me you fought to keep the X-Files open."

"Because I needed Bureau resources, Mulder. And because  
it was the only piece of you I had left." 

Mulder snagged her hand and enfolded it in his. When he  
spoke again, it was with tender affection. "And what  
revelations did this soul searching produce?"

"That the personal cost of our investigations inevitably  
outweighs professional gain. That I don't give a damn about  
finding the truth if it means losing you." She took a  
calming breath, then continued. "When is it enough,  
Mulder? There's so much more you need to do with your  
life. So much more than this."

"There was a time when this work was everything, Scully.  
It was all I had."

"I know. But things have changed."

"Have they? I look at Grey, and I see the life I might have  
had--a normal job, the respect of peers, a warm, loving  
family. But no matter how hard I try, I can't picture myself  
in his shoes. And sometimes I resent the hell out of him for  
that."

"What are you saying?"

He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm  
saying that while the thought of getting back into the field  
makes me break out in a cold sweat, I can't imagine doing  
anything else. That while the damn job may no longer be  
*all* I am, it's still a significant piece of *who* I am." He  
shook his head. "Basically that I'm hopelessly fucked up."

The slight tremor in Mulder's hand and the ragged edge to  
his voice convinced Scully that the conversation had gone  
on long enough. She surreptitiously slid her fingers up to  
his wrist and eyed her watch. "No, you're exhausted. We  
can discuss this later. Now is not the time to make life-  
altering decisions."

He snorted. "What *is* it the time for?"

"Tea."

"*Tea?* " He jerked his wrist from her grasp, wise to the  
subterfuge. "Stop that. I'm fine."

"Yes, tea. I'm going to make myself a cup. Want some?"

"See, I would have sworn now was the time for coffee."  
Scully looked levelly at him until he broke. "Fine. I'll have  
tea." He said it with all the enthusiasm of an inmate  
marching to the electric chair.

Scully stood and smiled down at him. Reaching down, she  
fingered a tumbled lock of his too-long hair and then  
smoothed it back from his forehead. Mulder caught hold of  
her wrist and they locked eyes as he drew her down to  
straddle his lap. Scully licked her lips, warmth tingling  
through her limbs and pooling in her belly. More than three  
months...

Mulder brushed his mouth across hers, tracing her lower lip  
with the tip of his tongue and then nibbling gently. She  
sighed, winding her fingers into the hair at his nape and  
opening to him, welcoming him home. The melted  
together, kisses deep and slow and tender. Then Mulder's  
hands slipped under her sweatshirt to cup her breasts, and  
her world narrowed to the exquisite sensations of his  
tongue gliding against hers and his thumbs stroking her  
nipples. She rocked her hips, jolted back to reality when  
she realized Mulder's level of arousal didn't quite match her  
own.

Mulder broke the kiss and touched his forehead to hers.  
"Sorry. The spirit is willing..."

"It's okay." She kissed him again, exploring every nook and  
cranny in his mouth and leaving him panting for breath  
before she was finished. "It can wait."

"I can't," Mulder grumbled. "No coffee, no sex..."

She stared at the jutting lip and smoldering eyes and a lump  
filled her throat. How many hospitals, morgues, police  
stations had she haunted, hoping against hope for another  
glimpse of that beloved face? How many nights had she  
curled up alone in bed, praying next time...please, God,  
next time let it be him?

"Scully?" Now Mulder was staring at her, eyes soft with  
concern.

Scully blinked, surprised when moisture trickled down her  
cheek. She brushed the tears away with a knuckle and  
smiled. "I'm just really glad you're home."

"Me, too." He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her  
head under his chin. "One thing I do remember, Scully.  
You were the only thing that kept me going. When things  
got bad, really bad..." He tightened his arms until she was  
crushed against his chest, his rapid heartbeat thudding  
under her ear. "I knew they were messing with my head,  
that it wasn't really you. But sometimes, when I was  
whacked out with pain and sleep deprivation, I wanted to  
believe it was."

Scully turned her face into the soft, cotton tee shirt,  
breathing in Mulder's musky, comforting scent. "And  
sometimes, in the middle of the night, I'd close my eyes and  
imagine you spooned up behind me, your warmth along my  
back, the whisper of your breath on my neck."

Mulder pressed a kiss to her temple. "Did it help?"

"Not much." She lifted her head and smiled. "There's no  
substitute for the real thing."

"Hey, at least your substitute wasn't playing Dr. Mengele."  
When Scully stiffened, he grimaced. "Sorry. Guess that was  
in poor taste. I'm just whistling in the dark."

The front door creaked open, then banged shut, and Grey  
breezed into the room. "I won't be surprised if we get snow  
tonight; it's cold as a witch's elbow out there." He blinked.  
"Uh, would y'all prefer I drive around the block a few  
times?"

"Nah, have a seat. I've always been an exhibitionist at  
heart," Mulder deadpanned.

Scully punched his arm and eased off his lap. "I'm making  
tea."

Grey smirked. "Really? Must be a whole new brewing  
method."

She folded her arms. "Can I get you a cup?"

"Thanks."

He stripped off his coat and plopped down beside his  
brother. "I take it you're feeling better."

"Than what?" When Grey lifted his hands, palms out, he  
tempered the sharp reply. "Let's just say I'm better than I  
was, but not as good as I'd hoped to be. According to  
Scully, I'm a work in progress. How's Kristen?"

"She's good. She said to tell you she hopes you're feeling  
better, but if you cancel out on dinner tomorrow night she's  
taking the steak to go."

Mulder chuffed but didn't reply. They sat without speaking,  
listening to clinking glassware and thudding cupboard  
doors as Scully moved about the kitchen, humming quietly.

"What's it like, Grey? Having a normal life?" Mulder was  
barely aware he'd verbalized his thoughts.

Grey snorted, scrutinizing Mulder's face as if trying to  
gauge his sincerity. "Well, I don't know, Fox. Why don't  
you ask somebody who has one?" He shook his head.  
"What in hell gave you the mistaken impression that my  
life is anything approaching normal?"

"I make my living chasing little green men, mutants, and  
other freaks of nature. I've been shot, frozen, set on fire,  
gnawed, infected, possessed, and brainwashed. I just spent  
three months on a spaceship with alien shapeshifters that  
obviously mistook me for a human guinea pig. Hell, my  
conception was nothing but a great lab experiment."  
Mulder tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling.  
"Your life seems pretty damn normal to me."

"Fox." Much of the outrage had left Grey's voice. "My  
biological parents sent me away--gave me to another family  
like some kind of booby prize--because of a grand  
conspiracy I never really understood. I make my living  
chasing thieves, rapists, and murderers. I've been assaulted,  
shot, and nearly lost my brother to a killer with a grudge  
against me." He paused, then continued.

"I watched my wife die, eaten alive by a killer I couldn't  
stop. All my training, all the lives I saved in the course of  
my job, meant nothing. Losing her turned me into an  
emotional cripple with commitment issues I'm still trying to  
shake." He laughed quietly. "I'm a work in progress, too."

Mulder looked at his brother. "So you're telling me it's all  
an illusion. You don't really have a normal life."

"I'm telling you no one does. Not if by 'normal' you mean  
some kind of storybook fantasy where we all wind up  
living in a house surrounded by a white picket fence, with a  
beautiful wife and 2.5 kids. Life, by its very nature, is  
abnormal." He smirked. "Yours is just farther off the scale  
than most."

"That is the crappiest attempt at reassurance I've ever  
heard." Mulder grinned in spite of himself. 

Grey shrugged. "You want deep, turn on Oprah."

They were still when Scully returned with three mugs of  
tea. She stopped, eyebrow arched. "Did I miss something?"

Mulder eyed Grey, then smiled up at her. "Just two equally  
pathetic people sharing their fractured fairy tale lives. Care  
to join us?"

She passed him a mug, smiling. "Move over, Mulder. From  
the sound of it, I already have."

 

Bethesda  
Thursday  
10:28 AM

 

Mulder chewed his lower lip as he stared out the window,  
his face expressionless. The house was small and  
unassuming, red brick with neat black shutters, evergreens  
bracketing the front door.

Grey shifted, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel  
and then cleared his throat. "You're going to be late."

"This was a mistake."

"No, it wasn't. It's another step toward getting your life  
back."

God, he was so tired of that gentle, handle-with-care tone.  
"Don't patronize me."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

Grey's question finally drew Mulder's gaze from the  
building. "Not exactly, but.… I do think you and Scully  
tend to treat me like I could shatter at any given moment."  
He huffed, shaking his head. "Not that you don't have your  
reasons."

Grey sighed, his lips curving into a rueful smile. "Look,  
I'm not trying to tell you what to do. But while it may not  
be my life, I've got a stake in it, Fox. And I don't imagine  
you're happy with the way things have been going the past  
few days."

"Gee, what was your first clue?" Mulder looked back at the  
house. "I know why you pulled chauffeur duty."

"Hey, I had to arm wrestle Dana for this privilege." When  
Mulder didn't smile, Grey sighed. "She just needed a little  
break, Fox."

"You think I don't understand? I have eyes; I see what this  
is doing to her. The flashbacks have only gotten worse, and  
I never know what's going to trigger one." He raked his  
fingers through his hair. "I can't even hold it together long  
enough to get a damn hair cut."

"Which brings us back to my original point," Grey said  
mildly. "You're gonna be late."

Mulder opened his mouth to argue, realized the futility, and  
settled for a glare. "See you in an hour."

He felt Grey's eyes follow him as he strode to the front  
door and pushed the bell. He folded his arms and waited,  
deliberately ignoring the idling engine at his back.

"Door's open! Let yourself in." A woman's voice, faint but  
cheerful.

Mulder tugged open the storm and saw that the front door  
was, in fact, ajar. He stepped into the foyer and unzipped  
his coat. To his left lay a small living room with very  
modern, glass and chrome furnishings. To his right, a short  
hallway, presumably leading to bedrooms. And straight  
ahead, the sound of rattling pans and the rich aroma of  
fresh-baked bread.

"You can hang up your coat and come on back."

Feeling more than a little surreal, Mulder followed orders.  
He peeled off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack, then  
made his way to the source of the voice--and the delicious  
smell.

The kitchen was a scene of controlled chaos--dirty bowls  
and pans overflowed in the sink and flour dusted the  
countertops not occupied with cooling loaves. Propping a  
shoulder against the doorframe, he watched as a sixty-  
something woman with salt-and-pepper hair kneaded bread  
dough.

"Dr. Shanley?"

"Agent Fox Mulder. At least, I hope that's who you are.  
Otherwise I've just invited a stranger into my home."  
Smiling, she offered a floury hand, then pulled it back.  
"Guess that's not such a good idea. Have a seat, Fox. Can I  
get you anything?"

Mulder claimed a chair at the small oak table. "How about  
a different name?" At her raised eyebrow, he added, "I  
don't use Fox. Just Mulder is fine."

"Got some issues, have we, Just Mulder?" She plunged  
both hands back into the dough.

Mulder leaned back and folded his arms. "Oh, I'm a bundle  
of issues, Dr. Shanley. Didn't Dr. Verber fill you in?"

"He gave me the basics. And please, call me Tomie." 

"Excuse me?"

She chuckled. "Aye, ya heard right. Me da had his heart set  
on havin' a son ta carry on the family name. Imagine his  
surprise when wee Thomas Shanley the third turned out to  
be a she." She dropped the brogue. "I officially shortened it  
to Tomie the day I turned 21. I know all about issues,  
believe me."

She collected several loaf pans and began parceling out the  
dough. "How much have you remembered?"

The abrupt segue caught Mulder off guard. "Not enough."  
He lifted his shoulders. "Too much."

"You were missing three months?"

"So I'm told."

"You weren't aware you'd been gone that long?"

"Time flies when you're having fun."

Shanley gave him a sharp look but simply picked up the  
filled pans and carried them to the oven, a blast of hot air  
washing over Mulder as she loaded them inside. She then  
pulled a knife from a drawer and cut into a golden loaf,  
slicing a generous slab and transferring it to a plate.  
Moments later the plate, a knife, and butter were placed in  
front of Mulder.

"Coffee?"

Mulder gaped at her. "Shouldn't we be discussing  
my...issues?"

"I thought we were." Shanley took two mugs from a  
cupboard and filled them with coffee.

"So what's...?" He gestured at the food.

Placing one mug next to his plate, she sank into a chair and  
took a long draught from the other. "You looked like you  
could use it. You're skin and bones, kiddo."

Shaking his head, Mulder took a sip of coffee and tore off a  
small piece of warm, fluffy bread. "Gotta hand it to you,  
Tomie. You're not what I expected."

"It's part of my charm." She sobered. "Why are you here,  
Mulder?"

"Why are any of us here?" When she didn't let up on her  
probing stare, he sighed. "I'm here because I have to be. I  
don't have a choice."

"Bullshit. You always have a choice."

Mulder blinked. So much for the motherly aura.

Tomie leaned forward, cupping her mug between her  
palms. "When I was in college, I began experiencing brief  
periods of lost time. Holes in my memory I couldn't  
account for. Sometimes it was hours, sometimes days. I  
thought I was going crazy--becoming schizophrenic or  
developing multiple personalities or any one of half a  
dozen mental illnesses. At first I was able to cover for  
myself with lies--I was sick, I went home for a few days, I  
was visiting a friend... But after a while things got so bad I  
couldn't hide it any longer. My grades dropped, I flunked  
out of school, couldn't keep a boyfriend or a job..." She  
pursed her lips. " My family didn't know what to do with  
me. And that's the way my life went for many years.

"And then one day while watching television, I stumbled  
onto a program about alien abductees. I can still remember  
how terrified I became, listening to those people describe  
their experiences. It could have been me on that TV screen.  
I switched it off and tried to put it out of my mind. I  
couldn't.

"Eventually, I couldn't endure the mess that my life had  
become a moment longer. I connected with MUFON and  
they put me in touch with a psychiatrist who used hypnosis  
to help me recover those missing pieces."

"And you lived happily ever after."

Shanley didn't flinch at the bitterness in his tone. "Hardly.  
But I did reclaim control of my life. I accepted what had  
been done to me, and that it could happen again. Then I set  
it aside and moved on."

"So you got a doctorate in psychology in order to help other  
abductees."

"I got a doctorate in psychology to help myself. Helping  
others was just a side benefit." 

"Physician, heal thyself."

"Something like that. Look, Mulder, I'm not going to  
engage in psychological sparring matches with you. I've  
heard enough from Heintz to know I'd probably lose. If  
you're here because you're ready to deal with what  
happened, I'll be happy to work with you. Otherwise, we'll  
finish our coffee and part company."

Mulder took another bite of bread, chewing slowly.  
Delicious, yet it sat like lead in his stomach. "I can't ride in  
an elevator or step into the closet without hyperventilating.  
I'm afraid to sleep because of the nightmares. I'm getting  
flashbacks four or five times a day, during which I've  
trashed my own bedroom, punched and damn near  
strangled my wife. Scully.…" 

He bit down on the name and looked away. "I'm not going  
to let this destroy the good things in my life. I *will* deal  
with this."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Her fingers grazed the back  
of his hand. "Now, finish your bread or you'll hurt my  
feelings."

A little of the weight eased from his shoulders. Mulder  
picked up the rest of the slice. "Do you always conduct  
your appointments in the kitchen?"

"You'd rather I had you stretch out on the couch?" She  
carried his empty plate to the sink. "I'm not one for  
breaking the ice, Mulder. I much prefer a slow thaw. Now  
how about some more coffee?"

Twenty minutes later Mulder stepped out the door, a  
bemused smile on his face. Preoccupied, he'd climbed into  
the car and was reaching for his seatbelt before realizing  
that Scully, not Grey, sat behind the wheel.

"Scully? I thought you were dropping by the Hoover,  
catching up on some paperwork."

"I did. But I was having a little trouble concentrating." She  
scanned his face, a small line between her brows. "Are you  
all right?"

Mulder cupped her cheek, tracing the shadows under her  
eyes with the pad of his thumb. "That should be my  
question, shouldn't it?"

She caught hold of his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm.  
"I'm fine."

"You're exhausted. You should go to your mother's tonight,  
Scully. Get some real sleep. Let Grey play zookeeper."

She dropped his hand and put the car into gear, pulling  
away from the curb. "Mulder, I can't spend a morning in the  
office without worrying about you. What in the hell makes  
you think I could sleep any better at my mom's?"

"Oh, I don't know. The lack of screaming, maybe?"

"We've discussed this already. I'm not going anywhere." A  
car scooted in front of them and she slammed on the brakes  
with more force than necessary. She sucked in a deep  
breath and let it out slowly. "Let's start over. How was your  
session with Dr. Shanley?"

Oh, barrels of fun, he thought, but wisely restrained  
himself. "Let's just say she's not your average, run-of-the-  
mill shrink." He chuffed, turning to look out the window.  
"Verber sandbagged me."

"How so?"

"He may have found the only doctor on this planet that I  
can't bullshit."

Scully raised an eyebrow. "I think I'd like to meet this Dr.  
Shanley."

"Tomie." Mulder chuckled again. "Also one of the few  
people who actually beats me in the category of most  
irritating first name."

Scully stared at him, then jerked her gaze back to the road.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just... You're taking this amazingly well."

"Ah. You were expecting a quivering wreck, is that it?"

"Something like that."

"It's hard to get rattled over coffee and freshly baked  
bread."

"You lost me, Mulder."

"We didn't DO anything--except lay a few ground rules. It's  
all part of Tomie's diabolical strategy to take me out at the  
knees before I could fight back. Next time we meet I'm sure  
she'll show no mercy."

"Next time?"

The cautious hope in her voice broke his heart. "Yeah, next  
time. She wants to see me twice a week, for now. And she  
wants me to take these." He pulled the two prescription  
forms out of his pocket. "A sedative to help me sleep for  
more than three hours at a stretch. And an anti-depressant."

"And you agreed?"

"To the first two. The jury's still out on the anti-  
depressant." When she didn't say anything, Mulder slid his  
hand onto her leg. "I'll think about it, babe. I promise."

They drove the rest of the way in silence. When Mulder  
pulled open the door to the apartment building, Scully  
paused and lightly touched his arm. "I'm proud of you,  
Mulder. I hope you know that."

Mulder guided her inside with a hand at the small of her  
back. "This from the woman who has to walk up two  
flights of stairs because her husband's terrified of the  
elevator."

"Mulder."

He silenced her with a long, deep kiss, then touched his  
forehead to hers. "You're the only thing getting me through  
this, Scully. I hope you know that."

Grey met them at the door. "Well, hey. Look who's back.  
Y'all have got impeccable timing."

Mulder frowned as he shrugged out of his jacket. "What's  
wrong?"

"What makes you think somethin's wrong?"

"Because that southern drawl of yours always gets stronger  
when you're on edge." Mulder tossed the jacket onto the  
coat tree and stepped into the living room.

He smelled him before he saw him.

Cancerman blew out a cloud of smoke and smiled. "Hello,  
Fox. My, my. I must say, I've seen you look better."


	3. Chapter 3

Georgetown  
Thursday  
12:04 PM

 

Mulder faltered, then continued on toward the kitchen.  
"Grey, what have we told you about letting strangers into  
the apartment when Mommy and Daddy aren't home?" He  
snagged a bottle of water from the refrigerator and came  
back, leaning in the doorway while he twisted off the cap.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't let him in if he had an  
engraved invitation. He was already here when I got  
home." Grey braced both hands on the back of the couch  
and showed Spender his teeth. "I'd be happy to escort him  
out, though. Just say the word."

Spender tapped some ash into a coaster. "Gentlemen,  
please. Is this any way to treat an old family friend who's  
merely concerned for Fox's health?"

"Spare us the melodrama." Scully stood at Grey's shoulder.  
"What do you want?"

Spender ignored her, turning to Mulder with the barest hint  
of a smile. "It's good to see you, Fox. Three months. I'd  
almost given up hope."

"Oh, you know me. I'm like a bad penny. I always turn up--  
eventually." Mulder tipped back the bottle and took a drink.

"I understand you've had some difficulty recalling  
your…ordeal. Tell me, have you managed to recover any of  
those elusive memories?"

Grey snorted. "I think you've been sucking too hard on that  
cigarette, old man. You don't honestly think he's going to  
answer, do you?"

Spender blew out a column of smoke. "I'd hoped perhaps  
we could engage in a mutual exchange of information."

The bastard's smug, self-satisfied smirk pushed all Mulder's  
buttons. He set the water bottle on the counter, holding onto  
his anger with effort. "Sorry to disappoint. I'm afraid there's  
nothing you could say that I'd want to hear, so..." he  
stretched out his arm toward the door, "you obviously  
know the way out."

Spender put out his cigarette and stood. "Pity. I thought  
you'd like to know why our shapeshifting friends find you  
so fascinating."

Mulder lunged forward, catching Spender by the lapels of  
his trenchcoat. Spinning him around, he slammed the  
smoker up against the wall hard enough to make the  
pictures rattle. He leaned in close enough to smell  
Spender's stale breath. "Talk. And it better be damn good  
because I've been having problems with impulse control  
and my Paxil hasn't kicked in."

"Mulder."

Scully's voice reined him in. He glared into Spender's eyes  
for a long moment, tightening his grip until his fists dug  
into the hollow of the man's throat. Releasing the smoker  
with a flick of his wrists, Mulder took several steps  
backward and folded his arms.

Spender smoothed his rumpled clothing. "Let me ask you  
this, Fox. What *do* you remember?"

Mulder clenched his jaw. "Pain." 

"From the tests?"

"If you call breaking all my fingers a test." He scanned  
Spender's face with wary eyes. "Why?"

"Really, Fox. I'm beginning to believe you've lost your  
edge. You're aware of your father's contributions to the  
Project? His…personal sacrifices?"

Mulder gritted his teeth. "I know what he did."

"Then you must see how special you are."

Scully moved to his side, her shoulder brushing his. "Why  
don't you humor us? Spell it out."

Spender chuckled, shaking his head. "Agent Scully, you're  
more than qualified to answer your own question. After all,  
you possess not only sufficient training and intellect, but an  
intimate connection with Fox--the ultimate credential."

Mulder looked at Scully, but she kept her attention locked  
on Spender. "You're alluding to genetic modifications  
brought about by experimentation on Mrs. Mulder when  
she was pregnant. *Unauthorized* experimentation."

"Modifications that have served you well." Spender  
smirked. "You should be grateful to us, Fox."

Mulder curled his lip. "If you're looking for thanks, you'll  
be waiting until hell freezes over."

"What were these modifications?" Scully unobtrusively lay  
her hand on his forearm, steadying him.

Spender reached for a cigarette, but Mulder blocked the  
move. "Uh-uh. This is a no smoking zone."

"The modifications?" Scully prompted.

"Perhaps you should tell me."

Scully locked eyes with Mulder, apology in her gaze.  
"Heightened intelligence, intuition, memory. Enhanced  
ability to heal."

"Very good, Agent Scully. Of course our crowning  
achievement was an increased resistance to the alien virus."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." Grey made a time out  
motion with his hands. "You're forgetting that Fox nearly  
died from that virus. Seems to me that part of the grand  
experiment was a failure."

"Fox's genetic immunity was damaged, not absent. He  
successfully resisted the virus during his unfortunate  
adventure with Alex Krycek in Tunguska. It was his later  
exposure to the toxic chemicals on Brown Mountain that  
weakened his immunity and allowed the virus to take  
hold."

"A theory for which you have no real proof," Scully said.

"Come now, Agent Scully, you're not thinking like a  
scientist. You know that any successful experiment requires  
both a study group and a control group. After all, a result  
can't be considered significant unless it can be reproduced."

"How many?" Mulder ground the words out through his  
teeth. "How many besides Samantha and me?"

"Let's just say you're one of a very select group. I'm quite  
serious, Fox--you should be thanking us. Those  
'unauthorized experiments' are the only reason you're still  
alive."

"That's a bit of an overstatement, isn't it?"

"Hardly. Have you never wondered why you've been  
allowed to continue this tiresome quest of yours, meddling  
in things best left alone? Any other man would have been  
rewarded with a single bullet to the head and a swift  
burial."

"I'm too valuable to kill--is that what you're saying?"

Spender inclined his head.

"What does any of this have to do with Fox getting nabbed  
by the spaceship from hell?" Grey looked from Mulder to  
Scully, then glared at Spender.

*Broken bones. Cuts. Burns. Agony. "How bad is the pain,  
on a scale of one to ten?" Thick greasiness filling his eyes,  
his mouth. Crawling under his skin, burrowing into his  
brain…*

Mulder gasped as he tumbled back into his body with a  
jerk. "They know."

"What? What the hell are you talking about, and why do  
you look like the bastard just sucker punched you?" Grey  
ground the words out, his voice harsh.

"Your brother has just experienced an epiphany of sorts."  
Spender pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"Fox?"

"They were testing the merchandise." Mulder's lips felt  
numb, his head light. "Measuring the *success* of the  
experiment."

Spender pursed his lips, blowing a plume of smoke. "We're  
understandably concerned. The genetic modifications were  
performed in absolute secrecy. They were never supposed  
to learn we had…side projects."

"Projects? You're talking about a human being, you son of  
a bitch!" Scully's grip on Mulder's hand was gentle, despite  
the fury in her words. "What will it mean for Mulder, now  
that they do know?"

"We're not talking about human beings, Agent Scully. I  
couldn't begin to guess." Spender turned to Mulder with a  
smile. "Perhaps you should have taken more care in what  
you wished for, Fox. You wanted proof of the existence of  
extraterrestrial life. Now you have it."

"That's it. He's so outta here." Grey grabbed Spender by his  
upper arms and frog marched him toward the door.

"Mulder? Mulder, you need to sit down."

Scully guided him to the couch and seated him with a  
gentle shove. She disappeared and returned a moment later,  
pressing the partially consumed water bottle into his hand.

"Drink this."

Mechanically, he did as instructed, sipping water and  
staring blankly into space. His thoughts a twisted jumble of  
confusing images and emotions, he only distantly registered  
the slam of the front door and Grey's return.

"Is he okay?"

"No. He's not 'okay.'" Mulder tipped his head back and  
regarded his brother. "That Bill Mulder was a helluva a  
father, wasn't he? He certainly left me an inheritance I'll  
never take for granted."

Grey winced at the bitterness. He eased onto the arm of a  
chair with stiff, correct posture that was incongruous with  
his usual careless sprawl. "Don't let that bastard get to you,  
Fox. You can't trust a word from his lying mouth."

"He wasn't lying, Grey. Not this time." Mulder's fingers  
curled into fists where they rested on his thighs.

"He said it himself--he can't guess their intentions. How  
can you be sure--"

"Because I was there!" Mulder spat out the words, lunging  
to his feet. He paced to the window, catching a glimpse of  
Spender as he drove away, smoke trailing from his partially  
lowered window. "They went fishing for me with that rock  
and I took the damn bait. Everything they did to me was  
calculated. Methodical. All designed to test out the new  
model, from breaking my fingers, to infecting me with the  
black oil." He scrubbed a hand over his gritty eyes. 

"You didn't mention anything about the oil." Scully's tone  
held worry and not reproach.

Weariness slammed into him, leaving his hands shaking  
and his legs weak. Mulder turned around, "I didn't  
remember until now."

"You can't jump to conclusions, Mulder. What they put you  
through was horrific, but they sent you back. They may  
have the answers they sought. We've been given no reason  
to believe they'd take you again."

"Scully, the Files are littered with accounts from multiple  
abductees. Dwayne Barry. Max Fenig. Cassandra Spender.  
We've been given no reason to believe they won't."

Mulder returned to the couch, collapsing onto the cushions.  
"I never wanted to hate him. I made excuses for him,  
blamed myself because it was easier to believe I'd screwed  
up than to admit my own father didn't give a damn about  
me."

Grey leaned forward. "Except he did, Fox. I swear to God,  
he did. It's just that for some crazy, screwed-up reason he  
could tell everyone but you."

"He turned his son and daughter into science experiments,  
Grey. If that's love, then he had a funny way of showing it."

"Maybe not."

Scully's soft interjection drew their attention. Mulder raised  
his eyebrows. "Really? Then explain it to me, Scully.  
Because right now he's not getting my vote for father of the  
year."

"I agree that what he did was wrong. I just think you should  
keep an open mind as to his motivations. Mulder, they were  
operating under the shadow of impending colonization.  
Your father saw the big picture, was aware of the risks.  
Maybe Strughold convinced him that cooperating in the  
experiments would ultimately be a gift to his children.  
Maybe it was his misguided way of protecting you."

Mulder stared at her for a long moment, then shook his  
head. "I wish I could be as optimistic as you. But from  
where I'm standing, it's an awful shitty gift." He dropped  
his head onto the back of the couch, blinking up at the  
ceiling. "I'm tired, Scully. And I don't want to talk about  
this anymore."

Scully tapped his leg as his eyes started drifting shut. "Not  
yet, Mulder. You haven't had anything to eat since early  
this morning."

He covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. "I'm not  
hungry."

"Just some soup, then, and a few crackers. I've got some of  
Mom's--"

"I *said* I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat. You're too thin, Mulder. Remember what  
Nick said? You can't afford to skip meals."

Mulder snatched down his arm and glared at her. "God, I  
am so tired of everyone thinking they can run my life! You  
tell me when to eat, when to sleep, when to talk--I'm  
surprised you're not scheduling when I can take a piss." 

Scully flushed. "You think this is fun for me? Do you have  
any idea what it's like watching someone I love go through  
hell, how utterly powerless I feel? I can't take away your  
pain, stop the flashbacks, or even replace those thirty  
pounds. I wish to God I could, but I can't." She pressed the  
back of her hand to her lips, steadying herself. "I can make  
soup. Or drive you to the doctor. Or hold you when the  
nightmares get bad. It may not mean much to you, but it  
means a hell of a lot to me."

"C'mere." Mulder enfolded her resistant body. Tucking her  
head under his chin, he stroked his fingers through her hair.  
"It means everything to me, Scully. Don't ever doubt it. I'm  
just being a pain in the ass."

Grey snorted. "Like that's a news flash."

"Don't you have something to do?" Mulder asked dryly.

Grey stood and hooked a thumb toward the kitchen. "How  
about I heat the soup?"

"Refrigerator," Scully said. "Third shelf."

Grey offered up a mock salute and disappeared.

Mulder tightened his arms, gratified when Scully's curled  
around his waist. The feel of her soft skin, the smell of her  
hair, loosened the knot that had formed in his stomach the  
moment he'd seen Spender sitting in the living room like he  
owned it.

"I do know what it's like, Scully."

He sensed her frown; felt the subtle contraction of muscles  
where her face pressed against his chest. "What are you  
talking about?"

"You asked if I knew what it was like to feel powerless  
while someone I loved went through hell. I do."

She was still for a moment, then her body tensed. "My  
cancer."

"I watched the disease slowly suck the life from you. You  
were dying, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. I  
would have done anything to save you."

She sat up and looked into his eyes, bringing her hand up  
and cupping his jaw. "And you did. I'm alive because you  
never gave up." She brushed her thumb across his cheek,  
her smile fading. "I'm afraid I can't produce a miracle,  
Mulder. Much as I wish I could."

Mulder brought her hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to  
the palm, then gave her a crooked grin. "You're here.  
You've put up with a pain in the ass for ten years. Babe, if  
that's not a miracle, I don't know what is."

 

Bethesda  
Monday  
10:32 AM

 

Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Now it's cookies?"

Tomie waved him into the kitchen and picked up another  
egg. She tapped it sharply against the rim of the mixing  
bowl and pulled the two halves apart with deft fingers.  
"You're a psychologist, Mulder. Surely you recognize my  
clever use of a non-threatening environment."

Mulder chuckled and shook his head. "Tomie, as far as I'm  
concerned, everything about you is threatening." He  
bypassed the chair she indicated and prowled along the  
spotless, butcherblock counter.

Tomie watched him from the corner of her eye, her hands  
never faltering as she made quick work of two more eggs.  
"That's good, isn't it? Complacency rarely encourages  
growth."

Mulder picked up an apple and juggled it. "I'm here to  
grow? And all this time I thought it was for the PTSD." He  
set down the apple and moved on to a set of canisters,  
lifting lids and peering inside. "You're out of flour."

"Since you brought it up--"

"The flour?"

"Have you been taking the meds I prescribed?"

Mulder turned and leaned against the counter. "Why bother  
asking me? I know you talked to Scully."

"She's worried about you. She said you've been on edge,  
that you can't sit still for more than five minutes and you're  
not sleeping." Tomie looked pointedly at Mulder's tapping  
foot. 

Catching the hint, Mulder pushed away from the counter  
and dropped into one of the wooden kitchen chairs. "I sleep  
when I take the pills."

"But not through the night."

"Four or five hours. That's double what I'd been getting."

"It's still not enough, and you know it. Maybe you're  
resistant to the Xanax--I'll give you a new prescription  
before you leave today."

Tipping backward, Mulder balanced the chair on two legs.  
"You're the doctor."

Tomie plopped the mixing bowl onto the table in front of  
him and handed him a wooden spoon. "Here. I may as well  
harness some of that excess energy."

Mulder stared at the spoon, then began whirling it through  
the mixture of eggs, milk, and butter. "Don't you have an  
electric mixer?"

Tomie pulled out several cookie sheets and turned on the  
oven. "Mixers are for wimps. Besides, stirring is  
therapeutic. Gives you an outlet for all that bottled up  
anger."

"I'm not angry."

She gave him a long look and put the milk back in the  
refrigerator.

"I'm not."

Tomie braced her palms on the table. "That is utter bullshit,  
Mulder."

Mulder stopped stirring and looked up at her, smirking.  
"Don't mince words, Tomie. Tell me what you really  
think."

"They stripped you of your humanity, treated you as an  
object to be manipulated and controlled at whim. They  
tortured you--physically, mentally, emotionally--and they  
used your wife to do it. Now if that doesn't make you  
madder than hell..." She shook her head. "You've got  
bigger issues than just PTSD."

"Maybe I'm just too tired to be mad. I've spent the past ten  
years of my life in a haze of self-righteous anger, and what  
has it accomplished? The abductions, the tests, the plans for  
colonization continue, and I can't do anything to stop  
them."

"Children are alive right now because of your self-  
righteous anger."

Mulder snapped his head up and studied her face. "You and  
Scully had quite the little chat."

"I watch the headlines, Mulder. Particularly when they  
involve unexplained disappearances. Dana just filled in the  
blanks." She took the bowl from his hands. "Those children  
would be dead if you hadn't come up with an effective  
treatment."

"Damage control. We've got a finger in the dyke; the wall  
is still crumbling." 

He shoved back his chair and began pacing. "The  
abductions are just the warm-up. They intend to colonize  
this planet, and those of us who survive will wind up  
slaves--or worse yet, incubators for their young. And the  
aliens have the power elite of this planet on their side. The  
very people who block me at every turn have been  
collaborating with them to save their own sorry asses.

"I can't tell you how many times I've been this close, *this*  
close to obtaining solid proof, only to have it snatched from  
my grasp. Well, I'm damn tired of it, of spinning my wheels  
and going *nowhere*. How am I supposed to save a  
planet? Hell, I couldn't even save myself!" 

Moments passed before the silence pulled at him. Mulder  
realized he was standing in the middle of the kitchen, fists  
clenched, breathing hard. Tomie sat at the table, watching  
him. To Mulder's supreme irritation, she looked mildly  
amused.

"What?"

"I was just thinking--it's a good thing you're not angry."

"Very funny."

"Not really." Tomie cradled the mixing bowl against her  
body, stirring the batter with smooth, efficient strokes.  
"Mulder, you and I both know that putting this experience  
behind you will take more than recovering a few lost  
memories. You must acknowledge and accept the emotions  
that go along with them. Anger, fear, guilt--the feelings  
themselves aren't negative, they just need a healthy outlet."

"Sounds like a lot of psychobabble to me."

"Some psychobabble has validity, kiddo." Tomie stood and  
walked over to the counter. She took the lid off a canister  
and sighed. "You're right; I am out of flour. There's a five-  
pound bag on the shelf in the cellar. Mind sparing an old  
lady's legs?"

Mulder rolled his eyes but headed for the door. "Those old  
legs of yours manage to kick my butt fairly efficiently."

"Down the steps and to your right."

Mulder flicked on the light and descended four steps,  
pausing when the walls began closing in. Pressing one hand  
to the cinderblock, he forced himself to take deep, slow  
breaths. Turning his head, he focused on the bright spill of  
light from the sunny kitchen and the soft sounds Tomie  
made as she puttered about.

*Get a grip. You're a little old to be scared of the dark.*

Four more steps and he'd reached the bottom. The cellar  
was small but clean, its cement floor neatly swept and the  
walls freshly painted. Shelves filled with labeled boxes, jars  
of homemade preserves, canned vegetables, and staples like  
sugar, flour, and rice lined the walls.

He quickly scooped up the flour and made for the stairs. He  
had one hand on the railing when an object toward the back  
of the room caught his eye and he froze, mouth dry.

Oblong, about five feet in length and three feet high. A  
freezer, he told himself firmly. Just an extra place to store  
meat, ice cream, TV dinners. Nothing threatening could be  
found in white enamel, a hinged lid, a few lights and  
dials.…

He stared at the glowing, amber light and his stomach  
turned over. What...?

*Agony. Everywhere. Coughs tear through his body,  
leaving warmth on his chin and copper in his mouth.  
Hands...pulling, dragging, lifting. Dark. Walls pressing  
inward. Can't move, can't...out! Let me out. A coffin. Buried  
alive. Oh, God, not again...*

The bag of flour smacked the floor and burst open,  
spraying a cloud of white dust into the air.

***********************

"Where is he?"

Scully stepped into the foyer, turning her head as she  
searched for some sign of Mulder. Grey laid a steadying  
hand on her shoulder.

Tomie shut the door and moved in front of them. "He's all  
right, Dana. I gave him a hot drink and something to help  
him relax. I know you're both anxious to see him, but I  
need to talk to you first."

"Okay." Scully folded her arms, tamping down her urge to  
shove the woman aside. She'd been halfway between the  
Gunmen's place and the Bureau when Grey had called her  
cell phone. In the thirty minutes required to collect him and  
drive to Tomie's house her threadbare patience had  
unraveled completely. 

"First, let me repeat--he's all right. I didn't ask you both to  
come because he was in trouble." 

"It sure as hell didn't sound like he was doing so great when  
you called," Grey said.

Tomie smiled at him. "I said he was all right, not great. We  
had a rough time of it for a while there. He was in a bad  
way--completely dissociative for more than twenty  
minutes. But I'm fairly confident we've weathered the worst  
of the crisis."

"You said he had a flashback. He remembered something?"  
Scully studied Tomie's face, looking for any hint that the  
doctor was keeping something from her.

Tomie nodded, compassion crinkling her eyes. "Quite a  
large something. In fact, I have a feeling this particular  
memory has been acting like a cork, if you take my  
meaning. The trauma his mind couldn't accept, that  
triggered the protective amnesia he's used to bottle up all  
recollection of his experience."

"He's told you the details?"

"He blurted out snips and pieces during the flashback, but  
nothing since. He wanted you two to be here first. He said  
he has no intention of going over it more than once."

"Then let's get started." Scully took one step forward,  
halted by Tomie's upraised hand.

"I'm not finished, sweetheart."

She bristled a little at the endearment. "Can't this wait?  
Considering what he's just been through, I don't think it's  
wise to leave him alone."

"He needed a few minutes to pull himself together. And I  
need a few to prepare you before you see him."

"Tomie, he's my partner and he's my husband. You can't  
even begin to imagine what we've been through together. I  
think I know what to expect."

"Humor me."

Scully pressed her lips tightly together, but motioned for  
Tomie to continue.

"He may seem disturbingly calm. Indifferent, even. Don't  
let his detachment throw you. The sedative I gave him is  
bound to dampen any emotional response, but he's also  
insulating himself from a highly traumatic revelation."

Tomie waited for a nod from each of them, then continued.  
"And then there's the issue of his hands."

Scully stiffened. "His hands?"

"They're a bit worse for wear. His was in my cellar when  
the flashback came on. By the time I got down there he'd  
backed himself into a corner and was...clawing at the walls.  
Nothing is broken, but he bloodied his fingertips and peeled  
back a couple nails before I stopped him."

"What in the hell was he doing in your cellar?"

"I was in the middle of a batch of cookies. I'd sent him  
down for a bag of flour."

"You sent him down there alone, knowing what he's been  
going through? The flashbacks, the panic attacks--the man  
still can't get into an elevator, for God's sake! Was that  
supposed to be your idea of therapy?"

"Dana." Grey touched her arm, the slight shake of his head  
a gentle rebuke.

"You of all people know flashbacks can occur anytime,  
anywhere. In this particular instance I don't think it was  
either the dark or the enclosed space that triggered Mulder's  
memories--though I've no doubt they were contributing  
factors. 

"But the answer to your question, Dana, is yes. That is my  
idea of therapy. I've never denied my methods are a bit  
unorthodox--in fact, I seem to remember that was what  
brought you to me. I provide a safe place and a listening  
ear." Tomie tipped her chin up. "I'd say it's working."

Scully sagged as the indignation flowed from her body.  
"I'm sorry, Tomie. I just--"

Tomie wrinkled her nose and waved a hand. "No apology  
needed. We've all got his best interest at heart. Now, how  
about I stop talking and take you to him?"

She led them down a short hallway to a pair of French  
doors. Inside lay a cozy den complete with a gas fireplace  
and a large picture window looking onto what would likely  
be a flower garden in warmer weather. Mulder sat in an  
overstuffed chair near the fire, his bandaged hands cradling  
a mug.

Scully crossed the room and crouched at his side. "Hey."

"Hey." He twitched his lips in a weak smile, looking from  
Scully to Grey.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Scully. Don't look so worried."

Tomie was right--Mulder's placid tone unnerved her. Scully  
tried telling herself she should appreciate the respite after  
days of nervous fidgeting and snappish remarks, but the  
sense of wrongness set her on edge. Mulder existed  
naturally in a state of motion--canvassing crime scenes,  
tracking down leads, searching out witnesses. The drive to  
be doing, saying, thinking even permeated their home life--  
he couldn't watch a movie without providing commentary,  
reading in bed inevitably led to lovemaking, and skipping  
his morning run for more than a day or two left him wired  
and out of sorts.

Scully curled her fingers around one thin wrist and  
squeezed. "Guess I should've warned Tomie about letting  
you help in the kitchen."

Mulder laughed weakly but his eyes were hollow.

Tomie touched Scully's shoulder, then pressed a warm mug  
into her hands. Scully stood and joined Grey where he sat  
on the couch, sipping from his own cup. The tea was hot  
and sweet, laced with milk and sugar--not the way she  
normally took it, but she appreciated the therapeutic value  
for jangling nerves.

Tomie sat in a rocking chair across from Mulder. "All right,  
kiddo. We're listening."

Mulder turned the mug between his palms, staring into the  
amber liquid. "The x-rays, the MRIs, and the few memories  
I already recovered paint a pretty clear picture of what was  
done to me. But they don't account for how I could possibly  
have survived." He licked his lips. "Now I know."

The clock ticked a measured beat; somewhere outside a  
dog barked furiously. Grey opened his mouth, but Tomie  
shook her head sharply, silencing him. Mulder took a small  
sip of the tea, grimaced, and continued.

"They had a box--a kind of machine. It was big enough to  
hold a person. Namely me. Whenever I became too  
damaged to be of further use, they'd haul me over and  
dump me inside. Shut the lid, flip a few switches, and  
voila! One fully restored guinea pig, ready to rock and  
roll."

"A healing device?" Scully took a steadying breath. "I  
know we've had our suspicions, but...my God, that certainly  
explains everything."

"Let me get this straight." Grey spoke through clenched  
teeth, his eyes narrowed. "They'd torture you until you were  
half dead, run you through the machine to fix you up, and  
then start all over again?"

"Oh, they didn't stop at half. I mean, where's the fun in  
that?"

"What are you saying, Mulder?"

"I'm saying I'm pretty damn sure I didn't always go into the  
box alive. I wanted to die, Scully. It got to the point where I  
reached for it with both hands. But the bastards wouldn't let  
me go. They kept bringing me back."

Mulder shut his eyes and his voice lost all inflection. "It  
was like waking up in a coffin, buried alive. No light, no  
air, walls surrounding you, closing in.… And I could feel it  
working inside of me, bones fusing, tissue regenerating,  
muscles knitting together. The pain... It felt like I was being  
ripped into little pieces and slowly reassembled. The agony  
I went through in that machine was ten times worse than  
anything they did to put me there."

"That's where you'd gone, then," Tomie said, nodding at  
Mulder's hands. "I couldn't understand a good deal of what  
you were saying, but one phrase was very clear: You were  
begging me to let you out."

"I think it was seeing your meat freezer. The shape, the  
controls...it seemed so familiar. And then it all came  
rushing back." Mulder scrubbed a hand over his face.  
"Sorry for losing it like that. I guess there's probably not  
much hope for that batch of cookies."

"Oh, I'd say those cookies served their purpose. You've  
made a bit of a breakthrough today, Mulder. How do you  
feel?"

"Ready to get the hell out of here." Mulder looked at her  
with weary eyes. "No offense."

Tomie smiled. "None taken. I think you've accomplished  
quite enough one today."

"Car's parked down the street," Grey said after Tomie had  
escorted them to the door and they'd stepped into a chill  
wind. "Y'all wait here and I'll pull around."

"I can walk." Mulder zipped his jacket and turned up the  
collar. "I'm stoned, not crippled."

"Who said I was doing it for you? I'm sparing Dana the  
hike. Those shoes look damn uncomfortable." Grey twirled  
his keys around his finger and jogged down the sidewalk.

"He just likes to drive," Scully said dryly. She studied  
Mulder's pale face. "How are you doing?"

He lifted a shoulder and gave her a lopsided smile. "Been  
worse. Been better. You?"

"That about sums it up, I'd say."

"I'm sorry, Scully."

"For?"

"Being such a bastard the past few days. I'm surprised you  
haven't kicked my ass to the curb."

"Well, I can't say I haven't been tempted. But the truth is,  
I've grown rather fond of your ass."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Well, that's...that's good, Scully. Because I've grown  
pretty attached to yours, too." He sighed. "Not that you  
could tell lately, I'm sorry to say. But I hope to remedy that.  
Soon."

Scully looked up at him through her lashes. "Bring it on."

Mulder tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then leaned  
over and touched his mouth to hers. The chaste brush of  
lips quickly escalated when she opened to him, and he  
enveloped her in his arms. Scully relaxed into the embrace,  
one hand drifting up to cradle the back of his neck and the  
other curled around his waist. 

He jerked as if she'd jabbed him with a needle and took a  
quick step backward, stumbling over his own feet.

"Mulder? What's wrong?"

He stared through her as if she were a stranger. "What?"

"What's going on? Are you hurt?"

Blinking, he focused on her at last. "No. Why?"

"Why? Because you practically jumped out of your skin,  
that's why. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Scully."

Scully frowned. Mulder's tense posture and shuttered  
expression said otherwise. But before she could press the  
issue, he began walking toward the street.

"There's Grey. Let's go."

After hesitating briefly, she followed. Mulder moved  
easily, no hint of discomfort in his stride or as he climbed  
into the back seat. As she buckled her seatbelt, Scully  
glanced over her shoulder. Mulder had tipped his head back  
and closed his eyes.

Nothing to worry about, she told herself. He's fine. 

Grey hunched over the steering wheel, occupied with the  
task of driving and his own thoughts. Numb with fatigue,  
Scully sank back into her seat, mirroring Mulder's position.  
Within minutes, the silence lulled her into a doze.

Mulder slowly opened his eyes. A line formed between his  
brows and he sat up straighter, cocking his head. Listening  
intently. Nodding.

Grey eased the car around a corner, tapping his fingers  
against the steering wheel. Scully drowsed, her breath a  
soft, rhythmic whisper. And the tires hummed against the  
pavement.

 

Georgetown  
Tuesday  
3:58 AM

 

*So close.

Once unbearable, the pain has faded to a distant  
annoyance, like the insistent yap of a barking dog. He can't  
feel his arms or legs, and simply moving air in and out of  
his lungs takes immense effort. He's tired. So tired. And  
death is close.

"Did you know that human physiology has a much higher  
concentration of nerve endings than ours does? It's what  
makes your species so sensitive to touch. And to pain."

Fresh agony blossoms in his belly, driving back the  
numbness. The air catches in his chest and he coughs,  
weak, ragged spasms that spray her pristine lab smock with  
a fine, red mist. He groans but doesn't try to blink back the  
tears. If only they would blur her voice as well as her face.

"Your stamina has been truly remarkable, Mulder. Others  
succumbed long before reaching this stage." She wipes his  
lips and chin with a soft cloth before tapping information  
into what looks like a palm pilot.

He can't take his eyes off her hair, not even when his vision  
darkens around the edges and her words stop making  
sense. Red, silky, soft as a butterfly wing. He loves how it  
feels between his fingertips, the way it flickers around her  
face like bright flames. The sweet, clean smell when he  
nibbles that spot just behind her ear, the one that makes her  
moan his name.

Scully.

A quick, almost painless tug and he's free, severed at last  
from the body that holds only pain. A final breath whistles  
from his lungs, and he floats away...

...and awakens, screaming. His body is on fire, twisted from  
the inside out. They've crawled inside him--squeezing  
muscle and bone, rearranging organs, slithering through  
his blood. Fight or flight, he opens his eyes, desperate to  
escape. Darkness. It envelopes him. He flings his arms  
upward, smashing his knuckles against something solid.

He's locked in. He pushes with his hands, pulling up his  
legs, but his forehead and knees crack against an  
unmovable barrier, knocking him backward. The warmth of  
his own panicked breaths rebounds against his face.  
What...?

Oh, God. OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod. Is it a coffin? Is he  
buried alive? He smells antiseptic and his own blood, not  
freshly turned earth. There's not enough air. His heart  
pounding, his chest heaving, he pushes, then scratches at  
the blackness smothering him, sobbing and pleading. 

Let me out! I'm not dead!*

Mulder jerked awake. His heart hammered against his ribs  
and he gulped for air, surprised when it slipped easily into  
his lungs. He sat up, mopping his sweaty face with his tee  
shirt. Beside him Scully slept on, her hands curled beneath  
her chin and her face peaceful.

When he'd stopped shaking, Mulder eased out of the bed.  
He swapped his damp shirt with a fresh one and shuffled  
out of the room. Grey was spending the night at Kristen's,  
and the living room felt strangely empty without him. He  
sank onto the couch, clutching a throw pillow to his chest.

Tomie's theory had proven correct. Once he recalled his  
horrific experiences with the healing device, other  
memories began returning at an alarming rate. He'd  
suffered three more flashbacks before collapsing into bed,  
too tired to contemplate anything but sleep. When the  
nightmares had picked up right where the flashbacks left  
off, he'd broken down and agreed to take Tomie's damn  
pills.

That was four hours ago. He was still bone tired, his eyes  
gritty and his limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Yet beneath  
the exhaustion hummed a current of tension that would not  
allow him the respite his body craved. He felt jumpy.  
Jittery. There was something urgent he needed to do, some  
place he needed to be, but he couldn't put his finger on  
what it was.

*It's time to go.*

The odd refrain had flickered through his mind all  
afternoon, as if someone were whispering in his ear. He  
tightened his arms, rocking a little. Go where? He felt  
trapped by his own weakened body and the oppressive  
concern that radiated from Scully and Grey. 

Tossing the pillow aside, he lurched upright and wandered  
over to the window, leaning his forehead against the cool  
glass. A full moon bathed the street, glinting off pavement  
still damp from a brief spell of snow flurries. The darkened  
windows, the absence of traffic, the softly glowing  
streetlights--all radiated a stillness that mocked the  
relentless turmoil churning inside him.

How had he deluded himself into believing he could take  
ownership of his life? That he could walk away and leave  
the nightmare behind? His existence was tangled up in a  
web of deceit and betrayal. Once Spender had accused him  
of becoming a player, a cheap shot meant to impugn  
Mulder's integrity. But the truth was that he'd been a pawn  
in their damn cosmic chess game from the moment of his  
conception. He'd never be free of it.

Never.

*Time to go.*

It was a compulsion now, a constant tickling in his brain.  
He turned from the window, rubbing his head.

* Now, while she's sleeping. Hurry.*

He opened the closet and reached for his coat. When his  
fingers brushed Scully's jacket, an electric tingle shot up his  
arm and the tickle in his head became a command.

*IN THE POCKET TAKE IT REACH INSIDE PICK IT UP  
TAKE IT HOLD IT TOUCH IT YOURS ALL YOURS*

He slid his hand inside the pocket and grabbed it.

Smooth, slick, warm, it fit perfectly into his palm. He shut  
his eyes as serenity washed through him, the rush as sweet  
as a narcotic. His chin dipped to his chest and his body  
relaxed.

The voice gentled. 

*Relax. Let go. You don't have to think anymore. Just do  
exactly as you're told. We'll take care of you, Mulder. No  
more fear. No more worries. Come back to us. It's time.*

He smiled and opened his eyes. Of course, everything made  
sense now. He didn't belong here; he needed to go back.  
They were waiting for him.

He put on his jacket--Quiet, don't wake her--and walked to  
the elevator. Punching the button, he hummed quietly and  
watched the lighted numbers count down.

Outside, a gust of wind ruffled his hair and peeled back his  
jacket. Mulder zipped it to his chin, hunching his shoulders.  
He stared up and down the deserted street, a thread of  
uncertainty penetrating his comfortable haze. He had to go-  
-but how? 

His patted his pockets. No keys. He couldn't take the car or  
get back into the apartment without waking Scully. 

Uncertainty blossomed into anxiety. This was crazy; he  
was standing on the street in the middle of the night with no  
idea where he was headed or how he was going to get  
there. He should turn around, march right back into the  
building and...

*Relax. Don't think. Feel. Feel us. Come back.*

He started walking, and the relief was instantaneous.  
Apprehension melted away with each footstep and he  
smiled, barely acknowledging the chill cutting through his  
too-thin jacket and nipping at his feet. Cupping the rock in  
his hand, he caressed the smooth surface with his thumb,  
mesmerized by the touch. For the first time in longer than  
he could remember, he felt good. So good.

Ducking his head and shielding his face from the brunt of  
the wind, he quickened his pace.

 

Georgetown  
5:11 AM

 

Scully rolled onto her stomach, burrowing further under the  
covers. Still chilled despite the blankets, she scooted  
toward the middle of the bed, blindly seeking Mulder's  
warmth.

She snapped her eyes open and sat up, listening. After a  
wretched afternoon battling flashbacks, he'd fallen into an  
exhausted sleep. Unfortunately, the returning memories had  
pursed him into his dreams and he'd awakened in a cold  
sweat shortly thereafter. The fact that he'd finally agreed to  
one of Tomie's pills testified to the depth of his fatigue.

She'd crawled into bed full of hope that the night might  
pass without further incident. Mulder, sprawled across the  
mattress, hadn't twitched when she'd snuggled up to his  
back. The slow, steady whisper of his breath had lulled her  
into slumber.

She should have known it was too good to last.

Stopping to check the bathroom, she continued into the  
living room. She expected flickering blue light and Mulder  
stretched on the sofa, remote in hand, but found only  
darkness and silence. 

"Mulder?"

In the kitchen, an empty water bottle sat beside the sink.  
"Mulder?" Louder and more insistent, but still greeted with  
silence.

She did another sweep of the apartment, this time with an  
investigator's eye. The shirt Mulder had worn to bed lay  
discarded on the floor; his dresser drawer hung open. She'd  
seen enough sweat-soaked clothing over the past week to  
recognize evidence of a nightmare.

In the living room she picked the throw pillow off the floor  
and returned it to the couch. The curtains were open a  
crack, revealing the street below. 

Damn it. Nick had made it very clear that running was out  
of the question. Not only would it sap Mulder's already  
flagging energy level and expose him to the elements, it  
burned calories he desperately needed.

Scully opened the hall closet. Her coat had been knocked  
off its hanger and left in a heap on the floor next to  
Mulder's running shoes. His Birkenstocks, however, were  
missing. What the hell...?

She snatched his leather jacket from the hanger, eyes  
slipping shut when she felt a telltale bulge in his pocket.

Mulder's wallet and keys.

You didn't go running in sandels and you sure as hell didn't  
traipse around in the middle of the night without your keys.

What was he doing? Had he become caught in some kind  
of flashback? Could he be wandering around the city,  
trapped in his own mind? She had to find him, *now*,  
before he hurt himself. Scully refused to consider the  
possibility that he might hurt someone else.

She returned to the kitchen and grabbed the phone,  
punching numbers with shaking fingers. It was picked up  
on the second ring.

"Dana?"

"Kristen, I need to talk to Grey."

"What's wrong? Is it Mulder?"

"Kristen, please, I can't...I have to--"

"Calm down, darlin'. I'm right here."

She sagged, her legs trembling. "Grey, Mulder's gone."

"*Gone*? Where?"

"I don't know. If I did I wouldn't be standing here talking  
on the phone!"

"Okay, okay. Slow down and back up."

She sucked in a deep breath. "He was sound asleep when I  
went to bed. That was around midnight. When I woke up  
about fifteen minutes ago, he was gone. His shoes are  
missing but he left his wallet and keys."

"Maybe he went for a run." She could hear Grey moving  
about the room, opening and shutting drawers.

"Wrong shoes. And he'd have taken his keys."

"You've got a point. Are you sure he didn't leave a note?  
Maybe he went for a walk and just forgot the keys. If he'd  
had a flashback, wasn't thinking straight--"

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Meaning?"

"What if he wasn't in his right mind when he left? The  
flashbacks have been intense. If he thought he was back on  
the ship--"

"From what you're saying, he didn't just run out of the  
apartment. He had the presence of mind to go to the closet,  
put on shoes, a coat--"

"Oh my God." Scully stiffened, and spun toward the  
hallway. Her eyes locked onto her jacket as she forced her  
legs into motion.

"Dana? What is it?"

Ignoring Grey, she scooped up the coat and plunged her  
hand into the pocket.

Empty.

Oh, God. Mulder.

"Damn it, Dana! Answer me!"

"It's my fault. How could I have been so stupid?" Tears  
flooded her eyes and caught in the back of her throat. "God,  
this can't be happening. It can't be happening!"

"What are you talking about? Dana, talk to me. I'm in the  
car but I can't get there for at least fifteen minutes and  
you're scaring the shit out of me. What's your fault?"

Her legs folded and she slid down the wall. "Mulder has the  
device."

"What dev--the *rock*? How?"

"Skinner wanted our lab to have a look at it. I'd picked it up  
from the guys and was taking it to the Bureau when Tomie  
called. In all the commotion this afternoon I just...I..." Her  
voice cracked and she couldn't continue.

"You forgot." Grey sighed. "We spent the afternoon peeling  
him off the ceiling, Dana. It's no wonder--"

"Why would he do it, Grey? *Why* would he touch it  
knowing what we know? It doesn't make any sense,  
unless..."

"Unless he didn't have a choice." Grey's voice hardened.  
"Put on come clothes and meet me out front. He doesn't  
have a car or his wallet--he can't have gone far."

"Can't he? If we're right, Grey, then they called him. They  
want him back."

"I don't give a damn what they want. They can't have him. 

*************************

The first weak threads of sunlight were glinting off car  
windows as the cab coasted to the curb.

"Hey, buddy. Need a lift?"

Mulder pulled up short and stared at dark eyes in a stubbled  
face. "What?"

"I said, do you need a lift? I've been watching you for the  
last two blocks and no offense but ya look like you're ready  
to keel over."

He limped closer. His legs were weak with exhaustion and  
his feet felt like wooden blocks. Funny, he hadn't noticed  
until now.

"You'd give me a ride?"

The cabbie popped his gum. "For the standard rate." He  
squinted at Mulder. "Ya got money, don't ya?"

Money? Mulder searched through his pockets. No wallet,  
but he pulled out a slim leather folder. The cabbie's eyes  
widened when the case flipped open.

"FBI? Hey, you on a case?"

*It's time to go. Hurry.*

"I have to go. It's urgent."

"Never let it be said that Pete Sobricki didn't do his part to  
uphold justice. Hop in--I'll bill ya."

Mulder blinked, then opened the door and climbed in back.  
"Thanks."

"So...where to?"

"What?"

Pete slung an arm over the seatback and turned to face him.  
"Were you in an accident or something? 'Cause you're sure  
acting a little rough around the edges."

"I'm fine. I'm just in a hurry."

Pete lifted his hands. "Okay, okay. So tell me where we're  
going."

Mulder frowned, then his forehead smoothed. "West.  
Virginia."

Pete snorted but turned back toward the wheel. "Virginia.  
Could you be a little more specific?"

Mulder relaxed, tipping his head onto the seatback and  
closing his eyes. Shenandoah National Park. Skyline  
Drive."

 

Arlington  
Tuesday  
7:34 AM

 

"This isn't working." Scully sat forward, staring at the back  
of a tall, dark-haired man striding briskly down the street.  
He turned around as they drew closer, and she slumped in  
her seat. "We're never going to find him this way."

"How the hell did he manage to give us the slip?" Grey  
navigated the car around a corner, his shoulders tense and  
his words clipped. "Forget the fact that he's got no money  
or transportation. He wasn't physically strong enough to  
walk this far."

"He obviously found a way." Scully clenched her jaw.  
"Time is running out. We have to *do* something."

"I'm taking suggestions."

"Pull over."

"What?"

"Just...pull over. Let's think this through."

Shrugging, Grey maneuvered the car to an open parking  
space. He shut off the engine and looked at Scully with  
raised brows.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, struggling to think past  
the throbbing pulse in her head. "I called Skinner before I  
left the apartment. He promised he'd let the DC police  
know that an agent is missing. I think it's time you and I  
attacked this from a different angle."

"Okay." Grey tipped his head back and gazed up at the  
ceiling. "If we can't track him down, maybe we can figure  
out where he's going. You know, head him off at the pass."

"I thought of that. Given that Mulder's abduction and return  
took place within a thirty mile radius, the Lynchburg area  
would seem a likely destination."

"But?"

"I'm not willing to risk Mulder's life on those odds. If we  
go racing out there and we're wrong.…"

"We've lost him," Grey finished. 

"Skinner said he'd fax Mulder's picture to police in  
Lynchburg and towns in the surrounding area. They'll be  
watching for him." 

"That damn rock! We should have destroyed it instead of--"  
He bolted upright, his eyes huge. "Dana, the rock! If they  
can track him with it, why can't we? Langly could rig that  
machine--"

"The oscilloscope. Go." Scully pulled out her cell phone as  
Grey gunned the engine. "I can't believe we didn't think of  
this before." She drummed her fingers on the armrest.  
"Frohike? It's Scully. Listen carefully; Mulder needs your  
help."

Grey focused on weaving the car in and out of the sluggish,  
rush hour traffic. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his  
knuckles turned white and his fingers ached.

"It's not your fault."

Her soft statement startled him. He darted a quick look at  
her face before doggedly returning to the road. "If I'd been  
there, this wouldn't have happened."

"You can't know that."

"I know he'd never have made it out the door without me."

"You've slept on that couch every night for more than a  
week; put your personal life on hold for the past month.  
You needed a break, Grey. Stop blaming yourself."

"Excuse me?"

She sighed. "Okay, okay. I will if you will."

Frohike was waiting for them, the expression on his face  
less than encouraging.

"Don't look at me like that, Melvin." Scully breezed past  
him and went straight to the lab bench where Byers and  
Langly huddled over the oscilloscope. "You boys are  
always bragging that your kung fu is the best. Well, now  
would be a very good time to prove it."

"It's not a matter of kung fu." Byers faltered under Scully's  
pleading gaze. "Our equipment can only function within a  
certain range, and the fact that we're being bombarded by  
competing signals only complicates things."

Langly fiddled with various knobs. "Hey, if you could  
narrow the search area down a little, we might be able to  
get close enough to zero in on Mulder's signal."

"Langly, if I had that kind of information I wouldn't need  
the damn equipment!" 

Grey stepped between them. "What if we got in the car,  
drove around with that thing? Maybe we'd get lucky and  
latch onto the right signal."

Byers ducked his head. "I'm afraid the chances of success  
would be practically nonexistent. It would be like trying to  
find a needle in a haystack."

Scully smacked her palm on the counter. "Then we'd better  
start looking. Mulder can't be out of our reach. There has to  
be a way--"

Her cell phone rang. Pulling it from her pocket, she turned  
her back. "Scully."

"Dude, you gotta know we want to find Mulder as much as  
you do," Langly said to Grey. "We can try boosting the  
power on this thing, maybe increase the range. But that's  
gonna take time."

"We don't have any!" Grey rubbed a hand over his face.  
"You boys know what kind of shape Fox was in when we  
found him. Do you really think he'll survive another trip  
with those bastards?"

"We've got a lead. Pack that thing up and let's go!" Scully  
shoved the phone into her pocket. When they gaped at her,  
she narrowed her eyes. "Now!"

The Gunmen sprang into action, loading the oscilloscope  
and several smaller pieces of equipment into a large  
carryall. 

"Can that thing run on batteries?"

Byers glanced up from folding cords. "No, but we have a  
small generator in the van."

"What about when we have to leave the van?"

Langly waved a palm-sized device. "We've got two of  
these. They run on batteries. Their range is limited but if  
we get close enough, say within five to ten miles...."

"We will."

Grey nudged Scully's arm. "What's the story?"

"A cab driver phoned the Bureau asking about Special  
Agent Fox Mulder. Said he picked Mulder up in Arlington  
about 5:15 this morning. Mulder didn't have money for cab  
fare, but when the driver saw his badge he decided he could  
trust him to pay up later."

"He called to collect his money?"

"Not exactly. He told Skinner he couldn't shake an uneasy  
feeling--that something about Mulder felt 'off.' His odd  
behavior coupled with the fact that he insisted he be  
dropped off in the middle of nowhere had the guy worried  
Mulder might not be who he claimed. The cabbie said he  
didn't want some crazy person on the loose, posing as a  
Federal agent."

Grey frowned. "The middle of nowhere? Where exactly did  
this guy take him?"

Scully evaded his eyes, busying herself with taking a  
canvas bag from Frohike. "The mountains in Virginia, over  
two hours from here. Shenandoah National Park."

"Over two-- God, Dana! He's got a huge jump on us."

She shouldered the bag. "Then we'd better get moving."

 

Shenandoah National Park  
1:22 PM

"Shit!"

Mulder sat up, gingerly dusting dirt and bits of dead leaves  
off his palms. He'd taken his third spill in less than an hour  
and his hands and knees were scraped and bloody.  
Grasping the trunk of a nearby sapling, he dragged himself  
to his feet.

His feet. The sandals tripped him up and provided no  
insulation for his sock-clad toes. Why hadn't he worn his  
hiking boots? Or his leather jacket? And while he was on  
the subject, what the hell was he doing out here? He'd been  
stumbling through the woods, following this damn trail for  
hours without seeing a living soul. He was tired, thirsty,  
and hopelessly turned around. Maybe...

*Keep going. Come back.*

Mulder shoved his chilled hands into his pockets, sighing  
as his tense muscles unwound. The rock heated his palm  
and fingers--the only warm spot on his chilled body. More  
importantly, it soothed his spirit. He started walking,  
ignoring his abraded knees and blistered feet. Everything  
would be okay.

He staggered along, dodging low-hanging branches,  
slipping and sliding when the trail turned damp and muddy.  
Watching his feet, he concentrated on the business of  
putting one in front of the other. The sounds and smells of  
the forest, his discomfort, all faded to white noise....

The raucous caw of a crow snapped him out of his trance.  
Mulder blinked, struggling to focus.

The clearing was about a hundred yards wide, a smooth  
grassy stretch of ground broken by the large trunks of  
several fallen trees. Shivering, he turned his face up into the  
weak sunlight. He didn't remember leaving the trail.  
Spinning in a slow circle, he searched the tree line, unsure  
which direction he'd come from.

No longer moving, weariness slammed into him. Mulder  
rubbed at his burning eyes, swaying a little.

*Rest now. Wait.*

Rest. That sounded wonderful.

Collapsing against one of the large tree trunks and finally  
sheltered from the wind, Mulder curled into a ball and  
burrowed his face into his jacket, creating a small pocket of  
warmth. Within minutes, he was asleep.

 

Skyline Drive  
4:04 PM

"Another ten miles and we'll be back to the highway."  
Byers kept his eyes on the road, his voice neutral.

"Then we turn around and head south again."

Grey saw Langly and Frohike grimace at each other. He  
cleared his throat. "Dana, we've been up and down this road  
twice already. The sun's going down--in another hour it  
will be dark."

"And it's our best chance of finding him."

"All I'm saying is that maybe we should get some help. We  
could contact the park rangers, organize a search and  
rescue."

"By the time they get teams together it will be too late."

He swallowed, but there didn't seem to be enough spit. "It  
already may be too late."

She grabbed his arm. "Don't even say it. Mulder went all  
the way to Antarctica for me. He never gave up, and neither  
will I."

Grey held his ground, his own anger flaring. "You think I  
like being the voice of reason? I want to find Fox as much  
as you do, damn it! I just don't see the sense in blindly--"

"Will you two shut up? We're getting something." Frohike  
crouched by the oscilloscope, tweaking dials. "Easy. Easy.  
Bingo! That's it!"

"Are you sure?" Scully leaned over his shoulder.

"One thing you can say about this signal, it's unique,"  
Langly answered. "Byers, pull over as soon as you can find  
a place to stash the van or we're gonna lose this."

"There's a park entrance up ahead. Hang on."

By the time they parked and geared up it was dusk. Scully  
studied a map while the Gunmen snapped at each other,  
fumbling with the handheld units. 

"I thought you said those would work out here." She  
checked her weapon for the second time and flicked on her  
flashlight, panning it over the area.

"They will." Frohike snatched one from Langly's grasp.  
"What the hell are you doing, Ringo? You've got to set this  
threshold to maximum, or--"

"Oh, now you're the expert! Who was the genius that  
underestimated the damping affect the mountains would  
have on the signal?"

"Gentlemen, this isn't helping and we're--"

In perfect unison, "Shut up, Byers."

Scully swung the flashlight beam into their eyes. "I'm going  
to shoot all three of you if you don't have those things  
ready to go in sixty seconds."

Langly blinked, Byers froze like a deer caught in the  
headlights of an oncoming truck, but Frohike just smirked.  
"No need for violence. We're ready."

Grey and Scully moved in close as Frohike switched on the  
machine. "This shows signal strength." He pointed to a  
light bar with a single flickering square. "As you can see,  
right now it's barely registering. I'm guessing Mulder must  
be at least a couple miles from here."

"More like five," Langly muttered.

"As we home in on the signal, more of the bar will light  
up," Frohike said. "Theoretically, when we find Mulder the  
entire bar will be red."

Grey frowned. "Theoretically?"

The Gunmen eyed each other before Byers finally spoke.  
"We put these together months ago. The, ah, project we  
intended them for fell through and they've been gathering  
dust ever since."

"You've never tested them?" Scully asked.

"Not outside the lab, no."

She bit her lip, but took the instrument from Frohike. "Then  
let's hope you boys knew what you were doing." She  
pointed her flashlight at the trees. "According to the map,  
this is an access point to the Appalachian Trail. It should be  
just beyond those trees, running roughly north and south

Grey held up a hand. "Wait a minute. If you're going to  
suggest what I think--"

"We should divide into two groups, keeping in contact by  
radio."

"That's what I was afraid of. Look, Dana, I think splitting  
up is a bad idea. It's almost dark, we're in the middle of the  
forest, and these guys are amateurs at this kind of thing."

"Who you calling amateur?" Langly waved the device in  
his hand. "Don't forget, you wouldn't be here without us."

Frohike folded his arms. "What he said."

"Splitting up doubles our chances of finding Mulder. You  
can take Byers and Langly and head south; Frohike and I  
will go north." Scully laid a hand on Grey's arm and  
lowered her voice. "I understand your concern, but each of  
us is armed. I'm willing to take the risk."

Byers squared his shoulders. "So are we."

Grey sighed. "Then I think we should check in by radio  
every twenty minutes. And if you get lucky, I want you to  
wait for me before you approach him." When Scully  
frowned, he quickly added, "Fox is under the influence of  
an alien device, Dana. We have no idea what his state of  
mind is or what he may be capable of. I don't want you  
going near him without back-up."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Grey ignored Frohike's mutter, pinning Scully with his  
eyes. After a moment she nodded and started walking.

"Fine. Let's go."

*************************

"Damn it, Langly, watch what you're doing!" Grey  
balanced on one leg as he fixed his shoe. "That's the second  
time you've tromped on my heel."

"Well, excuse me. Maybe you could give a guy a little  
warning before you stop dead in the middle of the trail.  
You're the only one with a good flashlight--we can't see  
shit back here."

Grey mentally counted to ten. It wasn't Langly's fault that  
they'd hiked several miles and come up empty. "Still  
nothing?" He jabbed a finger at the instrument in Langly's  
hand. Now even the single stuttering light had gone dark.

"Nada. It's pretty obvious Mulder never came this way."

"Unless your little invention is really a piece of useless  
junk."

"Hey! I spent a lot of hours on that so-called 'piece of junk,'  
and--"

Byers stepped between them, cutting off Langly mid-rant.  
"We told you they'd never been tested. We're doing the best  
we can under the circumstances."

Grey ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "I  
know you are. Let's head back. Dana's due to check in any  
minute. How 'bout we pick up the pace?"

Langly extended his arm and Grey set off at a slow jog. He  
fought frustration and a rising sense of despair. Had they  
really believed the five of them could find Fox in the  
middle of this wilderness? What if by conducting their own  
search they'd thrown away viable opportunities to find  
him?

His thoughts consumed with worry for his brother, it was a  
moment before he registered the hiss of static from the  
radio on Byer's belt. Byers picked it up as Frohike's voice  
crackled to life.

"Byers, where are you?"

"Almost back to where we started." Byers looked at Grey.  
"No luck, I'm afraid."

"Yeah? Well the three of you better haul ass. The 'scope's  
lighting up like a Christmas tree. We're closing in on  
Mulder as we speak." Frohike's voice was giddy with  
excitement."

Grey grabbed the radio from Byers. "What's your  
position?"

They heard Frohike conferring with Scully before he  
replied. "We're about three miles along the trail but the  
signal's veering west. We're-- Scully...Scully, wait! Just  
follow the 'scope; it will show you the way. Gotta go."

"You heard him." Grey shoved the radio into his pocket.  
"Let's haul ass, boys."

To Grey's surprise, Langly and Byers stayed with him,  
despite the breakneck pace. He moved as fast as he dared  
without risking a broken ankle from the uneven, rocky  
ground. A mile down the trail the first light flickered to life,  
spurring him onward. The bar was nearly complete when it  
began to recede. Grey skidded to a stop.

"Shit! We're starting to lose it. We must have gone too far,  
passed the point they left the trail. Let's backtrack and then  
head west."

He'd barely finished speaking when the radio clicked. "Yo,  
Byers. You better answer, 'cause we're about to be in some  
deep doo doo." Frohike's whisper vibrated tension.

"It's Grey. What's up, Frohike?"

"We found Mulder, but he looks like crap. I reminded  
Scully she promised to wait for you but she said...uh, well,  
let's not go there."

Grey groaned and started jogging. "She's with him right  
now?"

"Yeah. And he's acting strange, man. I mean, stranger than  
usual. Edgy. Scully's trying to calm him down."

"What's your position?"

"A small clearing just west of the trail. I think you better  
hurry."

"On our way. We're just around the corner."

They crashed through the trees and underbrush, stumbling  
over roots and dodging low-hanging branches. When the  
indicator bar shone red and the trees thinned, Grey slowed  
to a walk.

Moonlight bathed the clearing, a stark contrast to the  
darkened woods. Frohike stood just beyond the treeline, his  
attention focused on something beyond Grey's line of sight.  
Grey turned to Byers and Langly.

"Hang back. We don't want Fox any more upset than he  
already is."

He moved up beside Frohike, keeping to the shadows as  
much as possible. "Frohike, what's going on? Where are  
they?"

Frohike didn't acknowledge him. Instead he slowly raised  
both hands.

"Frohike! What the--" Grey broke off, heart pounding.

Fox and Dana stood in the center of the grassy area, beside  
a fallen tree. He was talking to her in a low, intimate tone,  
but staring at Grey and Frohike with lifeless eyes. One arm  
around her neck, he crushed her body against his.

And held a gun to her temple.

 

Shenandoah National Park  
5:37 PM

 

Scully clutched the arm pressed against her throat, digging  
her fingers into the soft cotton. "Put the gun down, Mulder.  
You don't want to do this."

He rambled on, his lips caressing her ear. "You don't  
understand, Scully. It's time to go. They'll be here soon and  
I can't...I can't let you stop me."

She shivered. The husky voice, the tickle of his breath, the  
heat of his body pressed along hers left her weak-kneed  
with fear. The man holding her so tightly bore little  
resemblance to her husband.

From the moment she'd found him on the ground, huddled  
in a ball and hypothermic, he'd been spouting nonsense.  
*It's all right, Scully. There's no reason to worry; I'm fine.*  
Oblivious to the abrasions, the bruises, the bone-rattling  
chill. Words tumbled from his lips, uttered in his voice, but  
they weren't *Mulder*. He sounded as if he were reading  
from a script.

"Mulder, you're hurting me." From the corner of her eye  
she saw Grey edging closer. "Put away the gun and you can  
explain everything to me. Help me understand; I *want* to  
understand."

"You don't want to understand; you just want to change my  
mind." He tensed and pressed the gun harder against her  
skull. "That's far enough, Grey."

Still over ten feet away, Grey froze, then pasted on a smile.  
"Well, hello to you, too, little brother. You want to tell me  
what's wrong? Maybe I can help."

"I don't need your help. I'd be fine if everyone would just  
leave me alone."

"Fox, you've got your wife in a headlock with a gun  
pressed to her temple. Way I see it, you're about as far from  
fine as you can get."

Mulder shuddered, then swayed and the gun shifted away  
from her head. Scully became a dead weight, using gravity  
and a quick twist to squirm out from under the arm at her  
throat.

But Mulder grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked,  
catching her as she stumbled backward and crashed into his  
body. Something hard smacked her jaw and she went still,  
blinking tears of pain as he nestled her gun snugly under  
her chin.

"*Don't*, Scully."

"Fox--"

Mulder shuffled backward, dragging her with him. "It's  
time, Grey. You can't stop this. I've got to go." His delivery  
was chilling. Matter-of-fact. Reasonable.

A figure detached itself from the shadows at the treeline.  
Frohike. His glasses reflected the moonlight, turning his  
face into an expressionless mask as he jabbed a finger at  
the sky.

"We've got incoming, man. If we don't get the hell out of  
here the phrase 'Beam me up, Scotty' is gonna take on a  
whole new meaning for all of us."

Mulder's iron grip on her hair prevented Scully from  
looking, but she saw the color drain from Grey's face.

"Fox, for the love of God, let her go! We've got to get out  
of here; you don't realize what you're doing. Remember  
what they did to you, the way they hurt you, broke your  
fingers, your--"

"Shut up! All of you, shut the fuck up!"

It was the first crack in his calm exterior. Mulder shifted  
restlessly behind her. Fine tremors vibrated through his  
body and Scully could feel his heart hammering against his  
ribs. She squirmed in his arms, desperate to see his face.

"Remember it, Mulder. All of it. The pain. The fear. The  
way they tore you apart and put you back together. They  
hurt you, Mulder, and made you want to die. You don't  
want to go back to--"

Agony blasted through her cheekbone, showering sparks  
across her vision. Scully cried out, sagging against Mulder  
as she fought to remain conscious. Grey shouted, fierce,  
pleading words that rolled over her without meaning. She  
saw his hand reach toward the small of his back, then drop  
to his side. Wincing, she forced her tongue to make the  
right sounds. What emerged was a slurred whisper.

"Grey...stop this...know what to do."

Grey's gaze locked onto her face and time slowed to a  
crawl. His eyes, wild with fear, widened as the meaning of  
her words sank in. He shook his head.

"Dana, no. I...I can't."

She wanted to scream, to remind Grey that there were evils  
far worse than death, but Mulder was choking off her air.  
And then she felt searing heat. Oh, God. The device.

"Grey. Please!"

Grey shut his eyes, twisting his face into a grimace. Then in  
one smooth motion he pulled his gun from the small of his  
back and fired.

Scully screamed as Mulder collapsed, taking her down with  
him, their arms and legs tangled together. Her head struck  
the ground and the breath whooshed from her lungs. Above  
the roaring in her ears she could hear Grey and Frohike  
shouting. Rough hands moved her away from Mulder's  
body.

"...coming...find it before...how the hell should I...do it  
now!"

Someone grabbed her arm and tugged her upright. Pain  
knifed through her skull, and the world spun sickeningly  
while she fought for balance. Byers face swam into view,  
his eyes huge and his mouth moving rapidly.

"...Scully...move before...trees...provide cover..."

He slung her arm around his neck and she pushed with her  
legs, wobbling to her feet. They staggered across the grass,  
weaving drunkenly. She heard Frohike and Langly  
screaming at each other. Grey sprinted toward the trees,  
Mulder slung over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

They ran, crashing through underbrush and tripping over  
tree roots, until her lungs were ready to burst. At last Grey  
barked out the command to stop and they all dropped to the  
ground, panting.

As she caught her breath, Scully's head cleared and the pain  
receded to a dull ache. Mulder lay on the ground, Grey and  
Frohike crouched over him. His outstretched hand was  
limp.

"Damn it, Frohike, you've got to press harder! Use this."  
Grey stripped off several layers of clothing, tossing Frohike  
his tee shirt. "He's losing too much blood."

"I can't believe you shot him." Frohike folded the shirt and  
tucked it against Mulder's right shoulder, leaning his full  
weight into the compression. 

"I didn't exactly have a lot of options. That ship was closing  
fast and Fox was standing there with his thumb out." Grey's  
retort sounded belligerent but Scully saw his hands  
trembling as he slipped his jacket beneath Mulder's head.

"Yeah, but... If you'd been off an inch you could've nailed a  
lung, not to mention Scully."

"But he didn't." Scully shrugged off Byers' supportive hold  
and crawled to Mulder's side. She looked into Grey's red-  
rimmed eyes. "He saved Mulder, and the rest of us, as  
well." She nudged Frohike out of the way. "Hold the  
flashlight, I need to see the wound."

The bullet had struck the upper portion of Mulder's right  
shoulder, a mirror image of the wound she'd inflicted when  
he had been whacked out of his mind and ready to shoot  
Krycek.

"Turn him. I need to check for an exit wound."

Grey and Frohike carefully rolled Mulder onto his side.  
Scully touched the blood soaked shirt, feeling her tensed  
muscles relax. The bullet had passed through cleanly.  
Mulder would be hurting for a few weeks, but the damage  
would eventually heal.

"Here." Byers pressed another folded piece of cloth into her  
hand, along with a belt. 

She accepted it and smiled tightly, quickly and efficiently  
binding the wounds. Mulder was out cold, not even  
twitching when she tightened the belt to exert pressure. His  
depth of unconsciousness troubled her, but she shoved the  
worry aside. First order of business was getting him the hell  
out of this forest. She'd deal with the rest later.

"That's all I can do here. He needs a hospital." She looked  
at Grey. "It's a long way to the car. Are you going to be  
able to carry him?"

Grey smiled but his voice was hoarse with emotion. "It  
won't be the first time I've had to haul his ass out of the  
woods." He brushed his fingers along her bruised cheek.  
"How 'bout you? You took a helluva knock from that gun."

"I'll be a lot better once we get out of here." Scully  
stiffened and gripped Grey's arm. "The device! What  
happened to it? Mulder--"

"Easy." Grey covered her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.  
"We found it in his pocket. It's been taken care of."

"Grey, I know I don't have to tell you how dangerous that  
thing is. We don't really understand how it works; they  
could still be homing in on it."

"Uh...no. They can't."

Scully turned toward Langly, whose gaze shifted between  
her and Grey. "You can't be sure of that."

"Actually...we can." Frohike waved at hand at Langly.  
"Show her the device, Einstein."

Langly reached into his pocket and pulled out a  
handkerchief. Folded up inside, shards of the rock mixed  
with delicate filaments and a glistening viscous substance.  
"We, um, smashed it. Between two stones."

"YOU smashed it," Frohike said, then added grudgingly.  
"Not that I tried to stop you."

"It was the only way I could think of to shut it off." Langly  
ducked his head. "Sorry, Scully."

She stared at the bizarre mixture of organic and inorganic  
material. Our concrete proof of extraterrestrial  
intelligence. Mulder's gonna go ballistic. And then the  
implication sank in and she smiled. Mulder was going to go  
ballistic. Thank God.

Scully sighed. "Forget it, Langly. Let's get out of here. I  
think I've had enough of Mother Nature to last a lifetime."

Grey stood and pulled Mulder across his shoulders. "You  
and me both, darlin'. You and me both."

 

Georgetown Medical Center  
12:31 AM

God, he was tired. Grey leaned against the back of the  
elevator and closed his eyes. His back ached like a son of a  
bitch and the muscles in his legs thrummed with  
exhaustion. Since his destination was the third floor, he  
didn't move when the car stopped at the next level and  
someone stepped inside.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but...you look like shit."

Grey opened his eyes. "Walt. Didn't realize you'd be the  
one handling damage control. Guess Dana figured she'd  
better call in the big guns."

Skinner frowned. "When I talked to Scully she said you  
were second guessing what you'd done. I'd hoped she was  
mistaken."

"Guess it's just further proof that a penchant for guilt really  
can be hereditary." The elevator doors rumbled open and  
Grey got out. 

Skinner caught hold of his arm. "Don't. You're a cop, Grey,  
so think like one. You were looking at an agitated and  
extremely unstable individual holding an agent hostage."

Grey jerked free from his grasp. "That unstable individual  
happened to be my brother, damn it! I *shot* my own  
brother." He ran a hand through his hair and cupped the  
back of his neck. "We were in the middle of the wilderness,  
Walt. If I'd hit an artery, a vital organ, Dana--"

"But you didn't. They're alive right now because you had  
the balls to make a tough decision. Don't cheapen it with  
self-pity."

Grey glared at him, then stalked down the hallway. Scully  
stood as they approached the waiting room. Under the  
harsh fluorescent lighting her shadowed eyes, bruised  
cheek, and mud-spattered clothing made her look like a  
battered child.

"Sir." She tucked a tangled strand of hair behind her ear.  
"Thank you for getting here so quickly. The staff has  
naturally expressed concern over the nature of Mulder's  
injury."

"I'll take care of it, Scully." Skinner's gruff voice softened.  
"Are you all right?"

She touched her cheek, then quickly dropped her hand. "I'm  
fine. They put Mulder in a regular room. The bullet went  
straight through without complications. Nick said it should  
heal well, no muscle or nerve damage." She directed the  
information to Grey. "He's with Mulder now."

"He's going to be all right, then," Skinner said.

"He should be."

Skinner frowned. "Should be?"

"He hasn't regained consciousness, sir. Frankly, there's no  
reason for it. Nick is...concerned."

"Speaking of which..." Grey gestured behind her.

Nick Brewer emerged from a room on the right side of the  
hallway. He jotted something on a chart before slipping it  
into the pocket outside the door.

"Nick." Scully walked quickly to meet him.

Nick slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed,  
nodding to Skinner and Grey. "He's starting to come  
around."

Scully sagged. "Thank God."

"It's encouraging, but it's only a first step. He's in and out,  
and when he's in, he's not making much sense." Nick  
rubbed his jaw. "I know you said he didn't hit his head, and  
I see no evidence of trauma. But he's behaving as if he's  
concussed."

Grey raised an eyebrow. "Are you thinking what I'm  
thinking?" he asked Scully.

"There must have been a neurological connection between  
Mulder and the calling device in order for them to control  
his behavior."

"So when Langly smashed the device--"

"It was like hanging up a phone."

"Slamming it down, I'd say."

"It's possible such an abrupt disconnection could act like a  
blow to the head." Seeing Nick's slack-jawed stare, she  
hastened to explain. "You see they had a kind of transmitter  
that also--"

Nick held up both hands. "Later. I think I'd really rather  
hear this story over a cup of coffee--preferably with a shot  
of brandy. Meanwhile, I'll schedule Mulder for an MRI to  
be on the safe side. You can go in and see him, but just for  
a few minutes."

Scully touched his arm. "Thanks, Nick. I'm sorry for  
dragging you in here at this hour. I know you'd already  
worked a full shift today."

He smiled and patted her hand. "De nada. One thing I can  
say about being Mulder's physician--it's never routine."

Grey followed Scully toward Mulder's room, slowing when  
he realized Skinner had remained behind. "Walt?"

"Go ahead. I'll straighten things out with the admitting  
doctor." 

Grey experienced a nasty case of déjà vu when he walked  
into the room--the pungent smell, the dim lighting, and Fox  
lying so pale and still. Had it only been two weeks since  
that hospital in Virginia? His sense of anger and  
helplessness felt the same.

He moved closer, wincing at the sight of the bandages  
swathing his brother's shoulder. This time he was  
responsible for putting Fox in that bed.

Scully held Mulder's hand and stroked the hair back from  
his brow. When he opened his eyes, she smiled.

"Hey."

He blinked, struggling to focus on her face, and mumbled  
something unintelligible.

She leaned in closer. "What?"

He licked his lips. "Help me. Don'...don't want to go."

Scully looked at him blankly for a moment, then tears filled  
her eyes. "It's all right, Mulder. You're safe now. You're not  
going anywhere."

Mulder's eyes slid shut. Grey, thinking he'd fallen asleep,  
was startled when his brother spoke again.

"Knew...lies...couldn't stop."

"It wasn't your fault." Grey crossed to the other side of the  
bed. "They were controlling you through that damn rock.

He turned toward Grey's voice. When he opened his eyes, a  
tear rolled down his cheek and disappeared. "Too  
strong...God, couldn't stop."

Grey swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Hey, it's  
okay. It's over."

"Scully." Mulder lifted an unsteady hand to her cheek.  
"Hurt you."

"Shhh." She pressed a kiss to his palm, then resumed the  
soothing motion of her fingers through his hair. "Don't,  
love. I'm all right."

A nurse stuck her head in the doorway. "I'll be taking  
Agent Mulder down for his MRI in a few minutes. If you'd  
like to grab a cup of coffee he should be back in his room  
in about half an hour."

"Thank you." Scully looked down at Mulder, who had  
slipped into a doze, and lowered her voice. "Guess that's  
our cue." She kissed his forehead and walked to the door.

Grey lingered, watching the slow rise and fall of his  
brother's chest. He turned to leave but Fox's soft voice  
called him back.

"Grey."

"Yeah, Fox."

His brother touched his bandaged shoulder. "Thank you."

Eyes burning, all he could do was nod.

 

Georgetown  
Friday  
11:47 AM

Daytime television sucked.

Mulder tossed the remote on the coffee table, hissing when  
the movement pulled at his stitches. Tugging on the pillows  
at his back, he searched vainly for a comfortable position.  
No matter what he tried, something ached, throbbed,  
twinged, or spasmed. Besides the gunshot wound, he'd  
racked up a pretty impressive collection of cuts, scrapes,  
and bruises on his little jaunt through the forest.

Come to think of it, trees sucked, too.

Grey emerged from the kitchen, juggling two prescription  
bottles and a sandwich. "Time for your meds. Dana said to  
make sure you eat first." He wrinkled his nose. "She gave  
me a graphic description of what might happen if you  
don't."

"One of the perks to having a doctor in the family." Mulder  
scooted upright, grimacing.

"Here." Grey handed him the plate and adjusted his  
pillows.

Mulder peeked under the top slice of bread. "Roast beef  
and cheddar--hey! This looks like it's from Scooby's!"

"It is. I stopped by on my way over. Dana sounded so  
desperate to get to the grocery store, I figured the  
cupboards must be bare."

Mulder bit into the sandwich and hummed his approval.  
"God, I love Scooby's."

"I know." Grey watched him eat. "What do you want to  
drink?"

"Should be a pitcher of tea in the fridge."

Grey disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a large  
glass. He placed it on the coffee table within easy reach and  
sat down in an armchair.

"Thanks." Mulder took a sip and made a face. "Damn  
caffeine-free tea."

Grey popped up. "Hang on." Another trip to the kitchen and  
now he held a slice of fresh lemon in his hand. "Maybe this  
ease the pain."

Mulder swallowed and raised an eyebrow. "Uh...thanks."

Grey perched on the edge of his chair for a few minutes,  
then stood, rubbing his arms. "Seems a little chilly in here.  
Should I bump up the heat? Or I could get you a blanket."

His brother was halfway across the room before Mulder  
found his voice. "Grey?"

"Hmm?" He squinted at the thermostat, fiddling with the  
dial.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Grey gaped at him for a moment, then scowled. "Wrong  
with me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're acting strange."

"*Strange*?"

"Yeah, you know. All this." Mulder gestured around him.  
"The sandwich, the pillows, the lemon. What's up with  
that?"

Grey folded his arms. "What's...? Nothing is *up*. I'm just  
trying to help. Heck, it's not like I've never waited on you  
before."

"Yeah, but this is different. I mean, you're practically  
*hovering*. It reminds me of when Samantha broke my bat  
and she..." He broke off and narrowed his eyes.

"Look, if you don't want my help, that's fine. I'll just go eat  
my own lunch." Grey stalked toward the kitchen.

"You're beating yourself up because you had to shoot me."

Grey froze; his back and shoulders went rigid under his  
denim shirt. Mulder shoved aside his plate and sat up  
straighter, ignoring the pain. "That's bullshit, Grey."

His brother came back and sank into the chair. "You don't  
get it."

Mulder laughed. "You've got to be kidding. Guilt is my  
middle name."

"It's not guilt." When Mulder just looked at him, Grey  
amended, "Not exactly. Deep down I know there wasn't  
anything else I could have done."

"But?"

"It's not that simple."

"Sure it is. I was hurting Scully. And my debut as alien  
abductee was about to become a recurring role. You  
stopped it the only way you could."

"You're not hearing me. I know I did the right thing. I'm  
just having some trouble living with it." Grey pressed his  
clasped hands to his forehead and shut his eyes. "I can't  
shake it. The bullet spraying blood as it hits your shoulder.  
Your eyes opening wide, then squeezing shut when the pain  
kicks in. Dana's scream. You drop--" He pressed his lips  
tightly together.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't." Grey lowered his hands and looked at Mulder. "I  
don't mean for you to be sorry, Fox."

"You know, this isn't the first time I've been shot." Mulder  
smirked. "It isn't even the first time I've been shot by a  
family member--though technically Scully was just a good  
friend at the time."

Grey stared at him. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to  
feel better?"

"My shoulder hurts like hell. But it will heal. I'll heal. If  
they'd taken me...God, Grey. I couldn't do that again. I'm so  
damn grateful you were there."

They sat in awkward silence. Mulder picked up the rest of  
his sandwich, then cleared his throat.

"So if it helps you to, you know, hover, go right ahead."

Grey snorted. "That's big of you." He poked the remote  
with his toe. "Anything good on TV?"

"Nothing. If I see another talk show I might lose what's left  
of my mind. I was going to put on a movie."

"Yeah? Which one?"

"Plan 9 From Outer Space."

"Never heard of it. Is that some kind of campy Sci Fi  
flick?"

"You're kidding, right? You've never seen it? Plan 9 is a  
classic--the standard by which all Science Fiction movies  
should be measured."

"Uh-huh."

Mulder waved toward the kitchen. "Go get your lunch.  
You're in for a treat."

"Why do those words strike fear in my heart?"

"Very funny. You know, I liked you better when you were  
hovering."

"Just start the movie."

Mulder's smiled smugly. "If you insist."

 

4:36 PM

 

*The light beckons him--bright like the sun, but so cold. He  
shrinks back from its icy touch, but the voices whispering in  
his head reassure him and then it's not so bad. He needs it,  
needs Them, a craving far stronger than his one-time  
nicotine addiction.

"Mulder, stop! Don't do this!"

Scully's tear-filled eyes are almost as compelling as the  
light.

Almost.

He tightens his grip on her hair and shoves the gun under  
her chin, moving them both into the brilliance. Under the  
light Scully looks translucent, even her eyes washed of  
color.

"What are you doing? Mulder, no!" She's screaming now,  
fighting him despite the weapon.

He smiles. "Don't you get it, Scully? You're coming, too."*

Mulder bolted upright, panting. The dull throbbing in his  
shoulder dissolved the lingering images of his dream. He  
looked around, surprised to find himself lying on the couch.

"Hey. Are you all right?"

Scully turned on the lamp and moved into the room.  
Nodding, he shifted his legs so she could sit beside him.  
She tugged aside his tee shirt, checking his bandage, then  
brushed sweat-damp hair off his forehead.

"Monday, Mulder. We're getting this cut. There's  
something inherently wrong about your hair being longer  
than Grey's."

"Speaking of Grey--where did he go? We were watching a  
movie."

"That was four hours ago. You dropped off after the first  
thirty minutes. He said to tell you that you should seriously  
rethink your definition of a classic."

"He's at Kristen's?"

She nodded, linking her fingers with his. "He promised he'd  
stop by tomorrow before he leaves." Scully studied his  
face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Mulder, every muscle in your body just tensed up. Is it  
that Grey's going home? You know he doesn't have a  
choice--he's been on leave from work for nearly two  
months."

Mulder looked away, his face expressionless. "Of course he  
has to go home. He's put his life on hold for us...for me. It's  
not like he can hang around here indefinitely on the off  
chance I might lose it again."

Scully frowned. "What exactly was this latest nightmare  
about?"

He shrugged, careful to keep his tone light. "Just your  
standard post-attempted-alien-abduction trauma."

"Sometimes it helps to talk about it."

"Not this time."

Scully pressed on, despite his curt tone. "The device was  
destroyed, Mulder. You're not going to 'lose it' again."  
When he didn't answer, she tightened her fingers. "What  
are you thinking?"

He gazed at their joined hands. "That the device was just  
one means to an end. That either of us could be taken again,  
at any time. That the only way to free ourselves and  
eliminate the threat of colonization is by finding the proof  
that will expose Them." He sighed. "I can't run away from  
this, Scully. I have to go back to work. I have to go back to  
the Files."

Scully waited a beat before speaking. "Then I suppose it's a  
good thing Nick thinks you'll be cleared for duty in a few  
weeks."

Mulder lifted his head, searching her face. "You don't  
sound particularly surprised."

"Maybe because I'm not." She sat forward, turning to face  
him.

"But when we talked before I said--"

"Ten years, Mulder. You think I don't know you by now? It  
doesn't really matter what brought you to this quest for the  
Truth--the strategies of evil men or your own insatiable  
curiosity. You won't accept defeat. It's what I saw in you  
when we first met. It's why I followed you. And a part of  
why I fell in love with you."

"And look what it's gotten you."

Scully smiled. "I don't know. The view doesn't seem too  
bad."

"How can you say that? Consider what the years have cost  
you, Scully. Your abduction, Melissa's death, cancer, your  
ability to have children...

"And what have they brought you? Not Samantha, not even  
that concrete proof that extraterrestrial life exists. Nothing  
you set out to find. But even now, you won't give up." She  
cupped his cheek. "You've always said you want to believe,  
Mulder. So what is it you want to believe in?"

Mulder leaned into her touch and closed his eyes. "I want  
to believe that the dead aren't lost to us. That their  
sacrifices are part of a plan--one greater than any alien  
force. But most of all, I want to believe we can find the  
power to save ourselves."

Scully kissed him and rubbed her thumb lightly across his  
lower lip. "Then we believe the same thing."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Haven't you figured it out? I believe in *you*."

Mulder pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her  
forehead. "Then maybe...maybe there is hope."

 

Epilogue

Bethesda  
Thursday  
3:21 PM

 

Mulder stood on the porch for a full minute before finally  
pressing the bell. He shuffled his feet, tightening his grip on  
the package tucked beneath his arm. The door opened and  
he straightened his posture, wincing when his shoulder  
twinged.

Tomie peered through the screen, her face lighting up.  
"Well now, you're a sight for sore eyes. I was beginning to  
think you'd fallen off the face of the earth." She smiled.  
"No pun intended."

"Sorry for dropping by unannounced. If this is a bad  
time..."

"Nothing bad about it. I was just sitting down to a cup of  
coffee. Come join me." She ushered him inside before he  
could answer.

Mulder followed the familiar path to the kitchen. He raised  
an eyebrow at the spotless countertops. "No Bread?  
Cookies?"

"Ah, well. We old ladies run out of steam now and then,  
don't we? But I can pull out the pie pans if it'll make you  
happy."

Mulder grinned. "The coffee will be fine, thanks. Oh, and  
this is for you. For when you do decide to pull out those  
pans." He placed the wrapped package into her hands.  
"Consider it an early Christmas present."

Frowning a little as she hefted it, Tomie tore off a bit of the  
paper and burst into hearty laughter.

"I figured I owed you one." Mulder watched as she  
removed the rest of the wrapping from the five-pound bag  
of flour. "More than one, actually."

"I'll see that you and Dana reap some of the benefits from  
this." Tomie set the flour on the counter. "So, how are you  
doing? It's been more than four weeks."

"Yeah. There was a...situation. I was injured and--"

"I know." She motioned for him to sit and picked up the  
coffeepot. "Dana called me right after you came home from  
the hospital. How's the shoulder?"

"She told you everything?"

"She gave me the bare bones." Tomie set a mug of coffee  
on the table in front of him and eyed him cautiously. "Are  
you angry?"

"No, I just..." Mulder frowned. "I'm not sure why she didn't  
tell me she talked to you."

"She didn't want to pressure you. She hoped if she gave you  
some space you'd make the decision to come back here on  
your own." Tomie collected her own mug and sat across  
from him. "Have you?"

Mulder rotated the cup between his palms. "I'm here, aren't  
I?"

"True. But then, we could just be two friends having a chat  
over a bag of flour, now, couldn't we?" When Mulder's lips  
twitched weakly, she continued, "I try not to make  
assumptions, Mulder. Every time I do they come back to  
bite me in the ass."

"I stopped taking the Paxil. And the sedative." Mulder  
looked squarely into her eyes.

Tomie just nodded. "Flashbacks?"

"Only one or two a week. And they're not as intense."

"Sleeping?"

Mulder shrugged. "I've struggled with that most of my life.  
It's no worse now than it's ever been."

"Sounds like you're feeling better."

"I am."

"So why are you here?"

"You're not buying the two old friends bit?"

Tomie sighed. "Back to the mind games? I thought we were  
past that, kiddo."

Mulder pushed aside the mug and sat back in his chair. "I'm  
here because there are some things I can't talk about to  
anyone else." He looked away. "Not even Scully."

Tomie's voice gentled. "Fair enough." She sipped her  
coffee until he spoke.

"Scully's told you about the device? How They...called  
me?"

"She did." Tomie paused, then added, "I know I don't have  
to tell you that you're not responsible for anything you did  
while under its influence."

Mulder waved a hand. "I've dealt with that. I hate what I  
did to Scully, but even I recognize how powerless I was."

"Okay."

Mulder stood and walked over to the window, facing away  
from her. "I was out there, in the middle of nowhere. No  
one in sight. They could have taken me at any time."

"But Dana and Grey found you."

"Hours later."

"Soon enough to stop you from being abducted a second  
time. You were very lucky."

"That's what's bothering me."

Tomie shook her head. "You're going to have to spell it out,  
Mulder. I have no idea where you're going with this."

Mulder turned around. "The device worked; I was right  
where they wanted me to be. What were They waiting for?"

"You obviously have a theory."

Mulder rubbed at the headache building over his right eye.  
"They came as soon as I grabbed Scully."

Tomie leaned forward, frowning. "Meaning?"

"I think they intended to take us both."

Tomie blinked, fumbling for a response. "That's one hell of  
a leap, Mulder."

"Believe me, I've given this a lot of thought. I've gone over  
it from every angle. I *want* to be wrong."

"But you don't think you are."

"What was the point in sending me back only to take me  
again a few weeks later? Why not just keep me? And if  
they wanted me so damn bad, why not beam me up and get  
the hell out of Dodge when They had the chance?" Mulder  
sank back into his chair. "They let me go for a reason. I was  
bait, Tomie. They were using me to get Scully."

Tomie's brown eyes were warm, her voice gentle. "If that's  
true it puts a whole new spin on things. You haven't shared  
this with Dana?"

"No. And for now, I don't intend to."

"You don't think she has the right to know?" she asked  
sharply. "That's bullshit, Mulder."

"You don't understand."

"Enlighten me."

Mulder closed his eyes as he sucked in a calming breath.  
"Scully had cancer five years ago. It was a direct result of  
her abduction. She nearly died."

"I'm sorry. But I still don't see how that justifies your  
keeping this from her."

"The cancer could return at any time. Scully is one of the  
bravest people I know, and she's done a damn fine job of  
putting aside her fear. But that tiny seed of doubt is always  
there, Tomie. When she's exhausted, or has a headache, or  
a nosebleed. It's a burden she lives with day to day."  
Mulder clenched his jaw. "I will NOT add to that burden."

"I see." Tomie swirled the dregs of coffee in her cup. "I'll  
admit I don't know Dana well, but from what I've seen she's  
not the kind of woman who'd appreciate you playing the  
protector. You do realize this could all blow up in your  
face? It'll be bad enough if Dana finds out you've been less  
than honest with her. But if something should happen, if  
she's taken--"

"She won't be."

"You know you can't guarantee that."

"I'll find a way." Mulder spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm  
going to stop Them, Tomie. Maybe not tomorrow, or next  
week, or even next year. But I believe I will find a way to  
put an end to this, once and for all. If that makes me crazy,  
well..." He shrugged.

"Maybe I'm the crazy one. I believe you just might do it."  
Tomie patted his hand. "And what about you? How are you  
holding up under your burdens?"

"By taking each day as it comes, I guess." Mulder  
grimaced. "Right now ending the threat of alien invasion  
doesn't seem nearly as impossible as getting on an elevator  
without breaking into a cold sweat."

"Ah, now ya see, you're in luck. I can't help you with the  
first part, but I'm sure we can work on the second. Provided  
you're willing, of course."

"Well...I suppose there are those pies to make." 

Tomie chuckled. "Before I'm through with you, you'll be  
baking Dana's birthday cake with your own two hands."  
She looked intently into his eyes. "You're going to be all  
right, Mulder."

Her words startled a smile onto his lips and a little of the  
weight lifted from his shoulders. "Yeah. I think I will be." 

For the first time, he believed it.


End file.
